Safehouse
by Cheringin
Summary: Four years post-war, all captured Death Eaters manage to escape Azkaban with one goal in mind: revenge. The Golden Trio is separated to assure their safety, and though the situation is hard for them all, Hermione can't help but feel she is stuck in the worst safehouse... Or Manor, in this case.
1. Chapter 1

"So… Any idea what we are doing here?" Harry Potter asked his two best friends as he waited in front of the office of the Minister of Magic himself.

"Not really, no," Ron answered. "But it'd better be important if I have to wake up this early on my day off."

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Ronald, will you stop complaining? It's nine in the morning!" Hermione huffed. "I just hope this isn't another ridiculous ball we have to attend, because I can assure you I am not going to any more."

Harry grinned, "I sincerely doubt Kingsley summoned us all to his office for a ball, Hermione."

"Yes, well you never know," she grumbled under her breath.

At that moment the door of the office opened, and the Minister let them in. "Harry, Ron, Hermione," Kingsley Shacklebolt said when everyone was seated and the office was warded against possible eavesdroppers. "It's good to see you. Thank you for being able to come upon such short notice."

"No problem," Harry answered. "What's this about, Kingsley?"

The Minister sighed deeply, wishing he had something nice to say, like that there was going to be a ball or something similar. "I'm afraid I have bad news."

"And now you've got us worried," Hermione said (although she was just a teensy bit relieved that it was not about dancing and titles and positive publicity and whatnot). "What is it?"

"Yesterday night, there was a massive breakout from Azkaban. Almost all the Death Eaters we had locked up managed to escape. This means people like the Lestranges brothers and the Carrows are walking free as we speak. They seem to have vanished without a trace, and even though I'm putting practically all our Aurors on the case, I don't think they will be caught anytime soon."

"So why contact us, Kingsley?" Harry asked, surprised. It made no sense that he was the one sitting there and not his boss, the head of the Auror Department. Surely both he and Ron, being Aurors, would've heard of it soon enough.

"Because all evidence points towards the fact that they're coming after you. Think about it, the one who killed Voldemort, a blood-traitor and the most famous Muggle-born. You're bound to be targeted."

"Oh." Yes, oh. What else was he supposed to say when he'd just heard that some of the world's most dangerous criminals had it out for him? (Again!)

"But don't worry, your safety is top priority right now. I need you to listen carefully and not get mad at the decisions we've made. I assure you, we have thought this through and I trust it is for the best."

"Of course," Hermione said. "What did you have in mind?"

"First of all, you will be separated. I know this will be hard for you, considering you're practically attached at the hip, but it is only until we've found the Death Eaters."

The Golden Trio exchanged shocked looks. This was something they had not expected. If Hermione was being entirely honest, she had expected the exact opposite, that they would've been dropped off at a safe house, all together. She was a bit relieved that that was not the case; as much as she loved her boys, living with them was not something she wanted to be subjected to again. It was true that they still saw each other a lot, even four years after the war. They all worked at the Ministry and they ate lunch together almost every day, not to mention the Sunday morning brunches at the Burrow and the Friday evening dinner dates at the Potter's (Ginny was an excellent cook).

"Harry, you and Ginny currently live at Grimmauld Place, am I right?"

"Yeah, we do."

"The house itself is well protected. We are going to put the Fidelius Charm back on it, with either you or Ginny as the Secret Keeper. Also, another Auror is going to come and live with you. That way, you won't have to go to work alone, and if you need something he can go and get it for you. I realize it will be weird to have someone live with you, but it's a big house. You should be fine."

The Boy-Who-Lived looked rather annoyed, but nodded. "I hardly think that that will be necessary. However, if you think it's wiser then I won't complain. Which Auror will it be?"

"Terry Boot." Harry smiled. He had worked with the Ravenclaw on several occasions, and both he and Ginny liked him. This wouldn't be so bad.

Kingsley seemed relieved that his proposition was accepted without protests. One down, two to go. "I'm afraid the both of you are going to need to be temporarily relocated. Your flats do not offer enough protection. Ron, Bill and Fleur have agreed to take you in. Their cottage is still under the Fidelius Charm and Bill, being a member of the Order, will be able to protect you."

Ron seemed relieved. "Great, but what about the rest of my family? Are they safe?"

"We believe your mother might be a target too, as she is the one that killed Bellatrix. She and your father will be staying with Charlie in Romania for now."

Kingsley then turned to Hermione, "Hermione, as for you, one of our best Aurors has most graciously offered to take you in. His house is one of the best protected places in England. You will be completely safe there."

It did not escape Hermione's notice that he failed to mention the name of said Auror. She was the brightest witch of her age after all. This couldn't be good.

"Who is she staying with?" Harry asked, suspiciously. He must've drawn the same conclusion.

Kingsley Shacklebolt, former Order of the Phoenix member and current Minister of Magic, was obviously a bit nervous. He might have been a brave man, but Hermione Granger, kind as she was, was not to be underestimated when she was angry. And she was going to be angry.

He breathed in deeply and dropped the bomb. "Draco Malfoy."

The Golden Trio's reactions did not disappoint. Both Harry and Ron stood up with such vigor that their chairs fell loudly on the ground, and they started shouting about Kingsley being mad and Malfoy being an evil ferret. The witch in question merely stared at him, mouth wide open.

After a few minutes, the boys finally quieted down and Hermione had the chance to talk.

"Kingsley, with all due respect, this doesn't make any sense. First of all, the Lestranges have already been to Malfoy Manor. Secondly, I have been to Malfoy Manor and I was tortured in their drawing room," (Kingsley cringed a bit at that.) "And thirdly, there is no way Malfoy would ever allow someone like me in his house, unless he has some kind of evil plan behind it."

"Tssk, Granger, so quick to make assumptions! You haven't even given our dear Minister the chance to explain everything."

Somehow, Draco Malfoy himself had managed to get in the room without any of them noticing. He was leaning against the doorframe, hands in his pockets, looking every bit the handsome aristocratic git she had expected him to become.  
Wait what, handsome?  
Well yes, she begrudgingly admitted to herself. Her school nemesis had become quite the looker in the years she hadn't seen him.

She turned back to Kingsley. "Is this really the best idea you've had? And why can Harry and Ron stay with friends and family while I'm…"

She didn't finish that sentence, but they got the idea.

"Well, it seems rather obvious to leave Ginny and Harry where they are, and it seemed a bit safer to have you work with Draco. No offense, Ron, but you're quite a hothead sometimes. Hermione, I was counting on your maturity and professionalism to overlook past slights, and to get along with the man that so generously offers you protection."

Oh great, now he was guilt-tripping her.

"Not to mention, you're the Muggle-born that helped defeat Voldemort. You stand for everything they hate. They will come after you, and I need you safe."

Hermione shivered. Even though she could have figured that out by herself, it was not exactly reassuring to hear it said out loud.

"How do you know he really wants to help? Maybe he'll hand me over on a silver platter," she said, crossing her arms petulantly.

Malfoy snorted. "That would be the most idiotic thing I could ever do. If you disappeared under my watch, everyone would think it was me and I'd be in Azkaban in no time. And I may be many things, but stupid is not one of them. Give me some credit, Granger. I can assure you, nothing will happen to you as long as you stay in the Manor."

"Let me remind you that Mister Malfoy has been working for the Ministry these past years, and has proven to be a trustworthy and capable Auror. I wouldn't let him do this if I wasn't absolutely certain about were his allegiances lay," Kingsley added.

The girl sighed deeply, starting to realize that none of her objections would make a difference. She still gave it one last shot. "How about the fact that the Lestranges know where the Manor is?"

Once again, it was Malfoy that answered. "When my father died, I became the head of the Malfoy family. No one can enter the house without me giving him permission first, and I'm very picky about the people I invite into my home." He gave her a look that clearly expressed she should feel honored she was one of them. She really didn't.

After Kingsley had managed to calm Harry and Ron down enough to make them see reason, it was time to say goodbye.

"But for how long?" she asked. "Surely it can't be that hard to find them? We can't stay locked away forever!"

"Locked away? Malfoy Manor is hardly a prison. In fact, I'm pretty sure it's…" Malfoy never got to finish that sentence; he was interrupted by the Golden Trio telling him to shut up at the exact same moment, without even having to look at each other.

"Creepy," he mumbled.

"All I can say is I'll keep you up to date," Kingsley answered her. "You can still write to each other and if it lasts too long I promise I'll try to make it possible for you guys to meet up. If you want to write to Hermione, send the letter to me. I'll make sure it gets to Malfoy Manor. Nobody knows where Hermione is going to stay, and I want to keep it that way, is that clear?"

"How about my job?" She worked in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures, attempting to defend the rights of house-elves, werewolves, goblins and centaurs.

"You will get the documents you need delivered to the Manor. We will tell everyone you're on a trip to Russia to talk about the rights of non-humans, and that you might stay there for a few months."

She looked at him in horror. "Are you telling me I'll have to stay put all the time? That's the worst idea ever. I'll go crazy!"

"You'll get further details later. You need to leave now, before people see you."

One quick hug to her best friends, who both told her to be careful, and she was gone. Hermione and Draco went by Floo to the Manor.

"There are only four people who can get in here," Malfoy informed her, sounding almost bored. "My mother, me, you and Blaise."

At her surprised look, he sighed deeply. "And no, Blaise won't betray you either. Not all Slytherins are evil, you know."

"I was merely wondering why Kingsley was not on that list," she answered. "No need to get all defensive."

"The fewer people that can get in here, the safer," he said, shrugging.

She nodded, looking around. They were standing in some kind of drawing room, decorated with good taste. There was nothing gloomy or dark about this place, no traces of blood on the expensive carpet. She felt a bit foolish to expect any differently, and yet she was surprised at the elegance of the place. And relieved she didn't recognize anything.

Malfoy was watching her curiously. "We're in the West Wing of the Manor. It's the only part that's been inhabited since... well, since the War. The place that... er the place you've been before is on the other side of the house."

Hermione just stared at him. She had not expected his thoughtfulness.

"Okay then," he said, when the silence became awkward. "I'll have a house-elf show you to your room. Your stuff's already there. Polly!"

With a resonating 'pop', a tiny house-elf appeared. "Yes, Master Draco?"

"This is Hermione Granger, the girl I talked to you about. Show her around, will you?"

"Yes, Master!" the little elf squeaked happily. "Follow me, Miss!" She grabbed Hermione's hand and practically dragged her along. Hermione barely had time to look at Malfoy, who was obviously laughing at her.

"Careful Granger, Polly tends to get a bit overexcited. Try not to fall over your own feet."

She was so shocked at hearing him laugh that she didn't pay attention to whatever Polly was saying in the beginning. It was only in the third room they entered that she started to listen because damn, it was a nice, albeit slightly scary room.

The most prominent thing in the room was a huge wooden table, long enough for at least 30 people.

"And this is the dining room, miss," Polly said, proudly. "The table and chairs are hand-carved, and there used to be paintings of the old masters and mistresses, but Master Draco asked Polly to bring them out because they talked too much. Now they're all in the attic! And..."

"Polly, please tell me we won't actually eat here? I mean, it's a bit... big, don't you think? For two people?"

"Mrs. Malfoy takes breakfast and lunch in one of her sitting rooms, and Master Draco comes to eat in the kitchen, but dinner is served here, Miss."

Once again the little elf dragged her along, and the next door she opened made Hermione squeal with joy.

It was a library. A huge library.

She practically bounced inside, that is until she saw Draco Malfoy himself standing by the fireplace. He snorted.

"Figures it's a library that turns you on, Granger."

"Oh. I, er, didn't know you'd be here." She blushed, embarrassed to be caught acting so childishly.

"Well this is my home, you know. I can go anywhere I want to. However, considering the fact that you're going to be... how was it you put it? Oh right, locked up, here, you can work in here. No one will bother you."

"Thank you," she said, once again wondering at his attentive behavior. But then again, they were both stuck here for Merlin knows how long, so it'd be much easier if they managed to be civil.

He nodded, and made to leave the room. "Oh, and Granger? Mother expects you at dinner tonight. Polly will come and fetch you when it's time. Try to wear something nice, will you?" He shot a disdainful look at her plain black robes.

She bristled in anger. "What's wrong with my clothes?"

He merely raised an eyebrow, not bothering to answer.

Never mind being civil. He was still the arrogant prick he had always been, she thought, almost relieved. This was the Malfoy she knew, the Malfoy she could handle.

"Why did you take me in, anyway? And don't say it's out of the goodness of your heart, because we both know that's a lie."

At once, his whole demeanor changed. She could pinpoint the exact moment he schooled his features into a neutral expression, making it impossible to know what he was thinking. She stared at his face, fascinated.

Most of her friends were Gryffindors. They were brave, a bit reckless, but above all honest. Whether that was because they could not lie to save their lives, or that they could not lie to save their lives because they were so honest that they didn't bother trying, she never knew. She was not familiar with people who could pretend so easily, and for some reason, instead of feeling disapproving, she felt intrigued.  
Not to mention, the git had a face worth-looking at.  
Oh boy, not even an hour in the Manor and she was going crazy already. She was in serious trouble.

"Well I didn't agree to it for the pleasure of your company, that much is for sure. To be honest, I'd rather have you than the Weasel, though that doesn't say much."

"That's not an answer, Malfoy," she said, refusing to be riled up by his insults.

"Not that I have to tell you, but you won't stop annoying me until I do, so I might as well get it over with." He sighed. "You see, after the war, things weren't so good for my family. Even though my mother and I got off easily thanks to Potter's testimony, almost everyone looks at us as if we're still Death Eaters. The Malfoy name has a bad reputation now, Granger. Nobody cares that my mother saved the Boy-Who-Lived, or that I have been an Auror, and a good one at that, for the past three years. I figured that if the world knew I kept their favorite little war-hero safe, we might regain some respectability. Is that a good enough reason for you?"

"Yes, quite. How very noble of you."

"Seven o'clock in the dining room, Granger. Don't be late!" With that, he turned around, leaving Hermione to her thoughts.

Her thoughts weren't very happy, unfortunately. The fact that she might spend months in this place was starting to dawn upon her. She would have to spend months, with only a boy that used to hate her for her blood and a woman that had watched her get tortured in her own house as company.

It seemed that the little house-elf noticed her distress. "What is wrong, Miss? Is the room not to your liking? Polly is terribly sorry, the Master said that–"

"No, no, Polly, it's okay!" Hermione forced a smile. "I'm just a bit overwhelmed. Could you take me to my room?"

"Yes, Miss, follow me, Miss!" And once again the little elf practically dragged her along.

Well, at least she had Polly, she thought with a smile.

Her room was absolutely gorgeous. It was about as big as her entire flat, with light-blue walls and a plush carpet that made her want to take off her shoes. Her bed was big enough for four people, and one of the walls was actually a window with a beautiful view of the gardens.  
She had her own bathroom (also huge) with a bath that reminded her of the prefect bath at Hogwarts.  
She fell down on the bed, marveling at how comfortable it was. I could get used to this, she thought.

"Miss Granger?" Polly appeared next to her with a pop.

"You can call me Hermione, Polly."

The little elf started bouncing excitedly. "Thank you, Miss Hermione! You is very nice to Polly! Master Draco said you would be!"

Hermione laughed at the enthusiasm of the little thing. Where on earth had Malfoy found her? Most house-elves were very reserved, no matter how nicely they were treated, with Dobby as the big exception. It struck her as very out-of-character for Draco, to have a servant like that. Not to mention Polly wore a pretty little dress, which meant she was a free elf.  
How odd. She would have to ask him about it at the next opportunity.

"It's time for lunch! Polly can bring it here, if you'd like!"

"Actually, could you bring it to the library? I am going to eat there."

"Yes miss, Polly will do it at once!" And with another pop she was gone.

She spent the entire afternoon in the library, even though she didn't have to work yet. But there were so many books to discover! She had already found a few that could help her with her current research (how to help werewolves be a part of society). There were also very old books that were probably worth more than the Hogwarts library in its entirety.  
She was still a bit giddy about some of her findings when Polly came to tell her she ought to change for dinner, and her high spirits remained when she entered the dining room.  
Maybe this wouldn't be so bad. She had a magnificent library to keep her busy, Draco seemed to be really trying to be civil, Polly was a very funny elf and Narcissa did save Harry's life, so surely Narcissa wouldn't be too mean, right?  
Right?  
Wrong.

Dinner was terrible. In the beginning it was simply awkward. They were seated at the huge table, and the silence was so heavy it was almost tangible. Draco Malfoy managed to look perfectly at ease and bored out of his mind at the same time, and didn't say a word. His mother looked thoroughly displeased at having a Mudblood at her table and merely stared at her plate without eating anything.  
After ten very long minutes, Narcissa finally deigned to speak.

"So, Miss Granger, what is it you do again?"

Hermione almost choked on her food but managed to swallow it with an inhuman effort and tears in her eyes. Out of the corner of her eyes she noticed that Malfoy was trying to suppress a smile.

"I work as a researcher in the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures. "

"That's a rather high function postition for someone as young as you are, isn't it?" Narcissa couldn't have sounded more disapproving if she tried.

"It is, yes. The Head of the Department, Eric Longten, offered me the job when he heard I did most of the research that destroyed Voldemort," she said defiantly. The Malfoys shuddered at his name. "Not to mention that I created S.P.E.W. in my fourth year."

"Well, I've always known Longten was overly... sympathetic. Your father never much liked him, Draco."

The young man merely grunted in response, not willing to get involved.

"But then again, my Lucius didn't like many people..." Narcissa sighed. "It is fortunate he never had to live through this." She looked at Hermione, making it very obvious what she was talking about. "He is probably turning in his grave right now. It is a shame how fast the world changes."

At this, Hermione Granger found herself unable to remain silent and ignore the woman, as she had been doing until now.

"A shame? I'm afraid I must disagree with you, Mrs. Malfoy."

"Well of course you disagree, it serves you rather well after all, doesn't it? If the world wasn't so different, no Malfoy would have lowered himself by letting a Mud...Muggle-born in his house."

"That's one way of looking at it, I suppose. But let's not forget that I wouldn't have to hide at all if some crazy people believing in the 'old ways' weren't after me in the first place!" With that, she stood brusquely and left the room without another glance backwards.

She had barely managed a few steps before the door opened once again.

"Granger, wait!"

"What do you want?" she said, without stopping.

"It's quite rude to leave the table in the middle of a meal, you know."

At this she turned around, a furious look in her eyes.

"RUDE?" she shouted. "You want to talk about rude? Because I'm pretty sure your mother has managed to insult me in every single sentence she said! I refuse to be some charity case, Malfoy! You better tell your mother that my being here benefits you as much as it helps me, because if she ever talks to me like that again I'm leaving, no matter what crazy Death Eaters are running around!"

She had gotten herself so worked up that her cheeks were bright-red and her hair seemed to have actually come alive.

"Look, Granger, I know my mother was not exactly... er, welcoming right now, but you've got to give her some time. She's still very bitter about my father's death, she blames everyone that has anything to do with the Ministry. Just don't take it personally."

As soon as he said it he knew he made a mistake.

"Not take this personally? Are you joking?" And now she looked ready to explode. Good job, Draco.

"Okay, that was a stupid thing to say. What I actually meant is that I'm sure she'll be nicer once she gets used to you. Just ignore her when she's mean and it won't be so bad?" He didn't even sound convincing in his own ears.

"I'll do better than that, Malfoy," she said, spitting out his name as if she could poison him with the word. "Just tell Polly I'll eat in my room from now on, and if you and your mother stay out of the library we can all joyfully pretend none of this is real." At that, she turned on her heel and disappeared up the stairs.

"Polly!" Draco called. The elf was next to him in a second. "Make sure Granger finds her room, and give her everything she asks."

"Of course, Master Draco!"

When Draco came back to the dining room, he was surprised to see his mother still sitting there, and with an amused look on her face at that.

"What's so funny, mother? Or are you merely proud you managed to chase off our guest after barely half an hour?"

Narcissa did not bother to answer his questions. Instead, she just said: "She's quite a spitfire, isn't she? Not at all what I would have expected from someone with her ancestry."

"Yes, I guess if there is one thing we all can agree on about Hermione Granger is that she never fails to defy our expectations," he answered drily.

"I must say, Draco, that is something I admire in a girl – backbone. I remember when she was being tortured by Bella." A shadow passed over his mother's face. "She didn't give away anything. Quite brave, really. Even your father was impressed."


	2. Chapter 2

**I wanted to thank everyone who reviewed, favourited or followed this story, it means a lot to me!  
Feel free to let me know what you think, good or bad. I am also looking for a beta, so if someone is interested, send me a message!  
Enjoy**

The next three days Hermione did exactly what she told Draco she would do. The only rooms she frequented were the library and her own room, the only social contact she had was with Polly and the letters her friends wrote her.  
Each morning a new pile of her work was laying on her desk. Malfoy probably asked his house-elves to deliver it.  
But she was bored. So, so bored. And a little bit lonely.  
So it was on the fourth day that she decided to explore the Manor a bit.  
"Polly," she said, when the little elf brought her breakfast. "Malfoy is gone, right?"  
"Yes, Master Draco is off to work. Master Draco works a lot!"  
"What about Narcissa?"  
"The Mistress is in her sitting room, Miss Hermione."  
"I see. Is it okay if I eat my breakfast in the kitchen?"  
"Yes miss, of course! Follow Polly!"  
Polly led her down the stairs, in the direction of the dining room, and opened a door Hermione hadn't even seen before. They walked through a small corridor, far less grand than the rest of the house, and descended another flight of stairs, before they finally arrived in the kitchen.  
The kitchen was big, warm, and very cozy. There was a fire burning, two other House-Elves were running around, the smell of fresh bread hung in the air. Hermione felt instantly at ease.  
She chatted with the House-Elves as she ate. Polly was the only one who wore clothes, and she couldn't help being curious.  
"Polly, if you don't mind me asking, how come you are the only one with clothes?"  
"Oh miss, Master Draco is very kind, Master Draco is very good. You see, Polly was working for the Goyle-family, but they weren't nice to Polly, no, not at all. Polly has always been different, and master Goyle didn't like it. And then Master Draco came, and saw how ill Polly was treated, and he convinced his friend to give her clothes, and he took her with him and offered her a job. A job!" The elf squealed. "And Polly makes money, and Polly has a day off every week, and Polly can buy her own stuff!" She did a strange little dance, probably to express her happiness.  
"That's wonderful!" Hermione said sincerely. Wonderful but also very surprising. She had a hard time imagining Malfoy as theHouse-Elf savior.  
She stashed the story away, deciding she would think about it later, and began exploring the Manor.  
By midday, she still hadn't seen all the rooms in the West Wing, and she was starting to feel a bit... depressed. Sure, the place was beautiful, but also slightly dark, and there hung an almost heavy atmosphere in many of the rooms.  
It was a relief to find a door that led her outside, into the gardens. It was the first time in a few days that she came outside, and she delighted in the feeling of the sun on her skin and the wind in her hair.  
The gardens were delightful. There was a little path that disappeared in some kind of closed-of garden. She followed it, curious to see what was hidden behind the walls. It reminded her of a movie she once watched when she was a kid, 'The Secret Garden'.  
When she opened the gate, her mouth fell open in awe. It was the most beautiful place she had ever laid eyes on! She was surrounded by exotic flowers and colorful butterflies, not to mention the delicious smell.  
She started wandering around, passing an ancient looking well, until she ended up in the farthest corner of the garden. This place was dedicated to white roses, more of them than Hermione ever had seen together. She sat down on a little bench and closed her eyes, enjoying the moment.  
"I see you found my roses," Narcissa Malfoy said. The young girl jumped. She had not heard the Malfoy matriarch approach.  
"I did," she answered, deciding to be civil. It was hard to be cross at someone on such a beautiful day. "They're beautiful."  
"Thank you," Narcissa said gracefully. "I'm quite fond of them. May I join you?" She gestured to the bench.  
Hermione narrowed her eyes suspiciously. What was the meaning of this polite behavior? Surely there was some kind of sinister plot behind it all. Nevertheless, she scooted to the end of the bench so Narcissa could sit down.  
"My son seems to be under the impression I have been an abominable hostess. He keeps pointing out that if you were Pansy, or one of the Greengrass-girls, I would behave differently. Which is, of course, very true. But you see, I find it hard to see you as an actual guest." Hermione bristled at that, ready to become angry once again, but Narcissa silenced her by lifting her hand. "Now wait a minute, young lady, let me speak. I don't say any of this with the intention of insulting you, it is simply how I was raised. I believe your... stay at the Manor will be a lot easier if we both understand where the other is coming from. I have never talked to a Muggle; I know them only from what my parents said about them. And let me assure you, those stories were quite horrible.  
However, after the war, after almost seeing my son die and losing my husband, I have been forced to realize that not everything I was told was right.  
I guess what I'm saying is that I am willing to try to act civil towards you if you will do me the same courtesy, and ignore the occasional slights I will no doubt bestow on you. Old habits die hard, after all."  
Hermione was silent for a while, pondering the older woman's words. At first she thought there was more to it, that this was all part of a plan to make her more vulnerable, but how could it be? She was already stuck in the Manor, forced to trust her former enemies. Narcissa did not have to be civil if she didn't want to.  
But why would she want to? As much as Hermione would like to believe her words, she doubted that such a change in attitude could occur in a few days.  
Maybe... Maybe Draco had explained to his mother that protecting a girl from the Golden Trio was good for their reputation, to promote the family name. Maybe Narcissa had decided that it would be an even better idea to befriend her.  
Now that was a plausible explanation, Hermione mused. But if so, how should she react? Did the motives really matter that much? Because, if Narcissa would actually spend time with her, she might discover that there was nothing so low about Muggle-borns. And any conversation, be it fake or not, would be better than the boredom she felt now.  
"Of course, Mrs. Malfoy. I'm sure we will find a way to coexist peacefully." She held out her hand, curious to see if Narcissa would dare shake it.  
She did, with almost no hesitation. Hermione was impressed.  
"Well in that case, you must join me for dinner. Draco is away on a mission for a few days, and I do hate eating alone. See you at seven in the dining room, Miss Granger!" 

Dinner was still awkward, but not as bad as the first one, thank Merlin. Towards the end, the two women even managed to have a rather interesting conversation about flowers. Apparently, Narcissa was a bit of an expert on them. She was utterly shocked to find that Hermione did not know of the meanings of flowers.  
"Oh my, what a shame," the blonde said disapprovingly. "What did they teach you at that school? The language of flowers is something every young lady should be familiar with!"  
And so, after dinner, Narcissa invited Hermione to accompany her to the sitting room, so she could explain her everything about the 'language of flowers'.  
And Hermione Granger being Hermione Granger couldn't help but be curious and excited at the prospect of learning something new, and she accepted the offer.  
And so it was that a very unlikely duo spent the next days walking around the gardens and drinking tea in the sitting rooms.

To Hermione's big surprise, she discovered she actually liked Narcissa Malfoy. There was a certain aura around her that made her interesting to listen to, and every movement she made was elegant and graceful.  
Even though they shared almost no interests, they discovered they were both intrigued by the very different kind of lives they led, and always had something to talk about.  
Hermione quickly fell into a routine. In the mornings she would work, at noon she ate her lunch in the kitchen, then she would read and answer her letters, and spend the rest of her afternoon outside. It was the beginning of autumn and the weather was still very nice.  
Most of the time, Narcissa would join her, even though she never stayed outside as long as Hermione did.  
At seven o'clock, they would have dinner in the dining room. Afterwards, they'd retreat to the sitting room where they would talk about everything and nothing.  
The evening of the fourth day she spent in Narcissa's company, Hermione finally had the courage to ask what she had been thinking about the entire day.  
"Mrs Malfoy..."  
"Please, call me Narcissa, dear, Mrs. Malfoy makes me sound so old."  
Hermione grinned, amazed at quickly their relationship had changed. "Narcissa, then. Isn't it terribly lonely to live here? I do not mean to pry, but it is such a big house, and, well, with the wards you can't really invite people here, can you?"  
"No, indeed I can't." Narcissa sighed deeply. "It does get quite lonely, especially when Draco has one of his missions. And as for inviting people, well... let's just say I haven't been the same since Lucius..." She broke of, unable to finish the sentence, and sighed deeply.  
"I'm sorry," Hermione said quietly, not knowing how to comfort her.  
"Don't worry, dear, it is perfectly normal for you to be curious. I know you mean well. Anyway, let's move on to a more happy subject, shall we? Would you like some tea?" Without waiting for an answer, she turned around to call a house-elf, but let out a startled gasp instead.  
"Draco, darling! What are you doing there, sneaking in the corner? I didn't know you were back!"  
"I've only just arrived," he said, an unreadable look on his face. Hermione blushed, trying to figure out exactly how long he'd been standing there. What a sight it must have been for him, seeing his mother and a Mudblood she seemed to despise only a few days ago talking about feelings and calling each other by their first names!  
Narcissa embraced her son, obviously relieved to have him back, and Hermione felt like an intruder.  
"I'll leave you," she mumbled, hurrying out of the room.

The next morning she headed to the kitchen as usual, only to find Malfoy sitting there already. She stopped, not knowing what to do. Without even looking up from the Prophet he was reading, he rolled his eyes and said, " Sit down, won't you? I'm not going to throw my food at you, and your hovering at the door is distracting me."  
"Oh, well I'm sorry to disrupt your oh so important morning ritual," she answered, heavy on the sarcasm.  
He didn't bother answering.  
"Miss Hermione!" Lila, one of the house-elves, said. "Here is your food! I makes it just the way Miss likes it!"  
"Thank you, Lila."  
She sat down and started eating, only to be bothered by his piercing gaze on her.  
"What?" she snapped, uncomfortable.  
"My house-elves seem to like you more than they like me already, and you've only been here for a week," he answered, his tone accusatory. "I swear, Granger, if you organize a revolution in my own home I will kick you out, good reputation be damned."  
She snorted at that. "Yes, that is my ultimate goal here. Organizing a revolution of three house-elves, one of them already free and paid." Again with the sarcasm. "How did that happen, anyway?"  
"How did what happen?" He couldn't sound any more disagreeable if he tried. He probably did, though.  
"You, hiring Polly. You don't exactly seem like the type of guy who goes about rescuing poor innocent little house-elves."  
He sneered at her. "You keep being surprised at everything I do or say. Maybe you should just accept that you have absolutely no idea what _type of guy_ I really am."  
Hermione was silent, trying to make sense of his words.  
Draco Malfoy stood and made to leave the kitchen. He paused at the door.  
"My mother told me you two spent some time together. I'm glad she has someone to talk to. So... Thank you, I guess. For giving her a chance, despite her earlier behavior."  
And then he was gone. Hermione still sat at the table, mouth wide open, flabbergasted. Had Draco sodding Malfoy _thanked_ her for befriending his mum?  
It seemed her forced stay at the Manor was making everyone a little weird.

That afternoon brought another change to her routine. She was walking in the garden, wondering why Narcissa didn't join her (she was never this late). Was it because her son was back and she had no need for her company anymore? Had she really only used Hermione as a form of entertainment to pass away the lonely days?  
But right before Hermione could get too indignant about the whole affair, Polly was at her side.  
"Miss Hermione, Mistress Malfoy is asking for your presence in the sitting room. She is sorry for not being able to come outside, but there is a guest, you see!"  
And before she could ask the Elf anymore questions, Polly danced away, back to the house.  
Hermione followed the curious creature and hurried to the sitting room, curious.  
Right before entering, she checked that her wand was safely in her coat, ready to be used in a moment's notice.  
Constant Vigilance is a habit that dies hard after a war.  
The scene she discovered after opening the door seemed a peaceful one, however. Narcissa and her guest were drinking tea. When Narcissa saw the girl come in, she smiled.  
"Ah, Hermione, there you are. I'm sure you remember Blaise from your school years?"  
Blaise Zabini stood and, with a polite smile, offered his hand to Hermione.  
She took a moment to observe him. She hadn't known him well at Hogwarts. He was one of the Slytherins that kept his distance and didn't bother with inter house-enmity or insulting others. She remembered him as a good and always polite student, though a bit aloof and guarded. There was a certain air of mystery around the dark-skinned wizard, one that had only grown more pronounced with the years, it seemed.  
"Nice to meet you again, Miss Granger," he said.  
She shook his hand. "Likewise."  
"Great, now sit down, both of you. I'll go ask Lila if dinner is ready." Narcissa gracefully left the room, leaving the two young people alone.  
Zabini leaned back in his chair, observing her without shame. She suddenly felt uncomfortable under his piercing gaze.  
"So, how's your stay at the Manor been?"  
She was slightly taken aback by his polite chit-chat. "Er... Well, rather good actually. Narcissa has been a most gracious hostess."  
"Yes, I've been meaning to ask you: how the hell did you do that? Just before you arrived she was furious about having to house a worthless Mudblood like yourself, and now she's all smiles and compliments!"  
Hermione shrugged. "I'm not sure. I don't think it's me, really. The first evening, at dinner, she wasn't exactly nice to me. I stormed out after dinner and resolved to never speak to them again. I kept to my own rooms for a few days, until I discovered the gardens. She came to talk to me, saying she had been rude and wanted to give it a new try. I agreed, and, when I joined her for dinner that night, we had quite a decent conversation. That's how it started, I guess."  
She really had no idea why she just told Zabini all that. She must have been more desperate for company than she thought.  
Blaise nodded pensively. "You must have impressed her, one way or the other."  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "No need to sound so surprised."  
He laughed at that. "Do tell, how's Draco doing with all this? I had honestly expected one of you to kill the other by now."  
"Which one?" She asked, smiling.  
"I'd have to put my money on you. You are the brightest witch of our age after all, and Draco could make a dead man want to kill him."  
This time she was the one laughing. "Well, I haven't seen him much, he was on a mission until yesterday. So no murders yet."  
"Yet," he agreed.  
"I don't remember you and Draco being so close?" she said.  
He gave her a calculating look. "What makes you think we're close?"  
The witch shrugged. "You're the only one allowed to Floo here."  
"Fair enough," he said. "It's true, we weren't friends at school because at the time, Draco didn't really have friends; he had minions. Also, my family was carefully neutral towards the Dark Lord, and our beliefs about Blood purity weren't as pronounced as those of the Malfoys. Draco had been brainwashed by Lucius that acquaintances were only worth having if they were useful or of the same ideals. My mother and I were considered eccentric amongst the pure-bloods, therefore he never even so much as tried to get to know me. I couldn't stand his tyrannical behavior and decided to spend more time with other Slytherins."  
"So what changed?"  
"He did. The war, being saved by Potter, his mother turning sides, his father's imprisonment and death... It made him reconsider everything he ever believed in. The fact that his father was no longer around to influence him, and that the Malfoy name he was once so proud of means next to nothing now, forced him to admit that he had been wrong about a great many things. I think he started to realize how emptily he had lived his life when those who once looked up to both him and his mother suddenly started to avoid them. Seeing his mother so lonely touched him deeply. One late night, I saw him at the bar, we started talking, and have been friends ever since."  
Hermione huffed. "If you expect me to believe he suddenly stopped seeing Muggle-borns as inferior and became a really good person than you're going to have to try harder."  
"Oh not at all!" he said. "He has been raised - we all were raised - to think that you people were worth less than the mud on our shoes. That doesn't just change overnight. However, now he believes that you don't deserve to die for it, and that the Dark Lord talked a lot of shit. How to explain this... He sees Muggle-borns as people now, even though he still thinks of them as inferior to himself. Does that make any sense?"  
"His beliefs or your explanation? I perfectly understand what you're saying, I just think it's a load of rubbish."  
"Well of course you do, you are a Muggle-born after all."  
"And the brightest witch of my age, thank you very much. If that doesn't prove we're equals, then he's just being daft."  
Blaise grinned. "Maybe you should try telling him that. I have relinquished the old-fashioned beliefs a few years ago, so you don't have to convince me."  
"Why?"  
He gave her a seductive smile. "Why, because I discovered that Muggle girls are far more open in bestowing their affections, if you know what I mean. Pure-blooded girls are always expecting commitment and all that. It's quite a relief for a bloke to be able to meet a girl that does not expect an engagement ring after 3 months, or even a relationship for that matter. Yes, I'm quite fond of Muggle girls and their parties. They're very wild. "  
Hermione stared him down, one eyebrow raised. "That's a despicable reason to change your vies, but better than not changing them at all, I guess."  
"So severe, Miss Granger. You almost hurt my feelings."  
She rolled her eyes, but before she could retort, Polly popped in to tell them dinner was ready.  
When they entered the dining room, Narcissa was already seated, looking anxious.  
"Draco is late. He should be back by now. I do hope nothing happened."  
"I'm sure it's nothing, Narcissa," Blaise said reassuringly. "It's because he knows I'm here and he so enjoys making me wait."  
"And yet you still persist in coming over to annoy me," the Lord of the Manor said, making his entrance just then.  
"Draco, finally!" Narcissa said with a bright smile.  
"What can I say, I'm a persistent man," Blaise laughed, winking at Hermione. She rolled her eyes again. Draco grinned when he saw her reaction.  
"It seems your charms don't work on her. Must be because she's already used to my divine presence."  
The boys laughed, and Hermione had a hard time keeping her smile in check. She had never seen Draco act so boyish.  
"Are they always like that?" she asked Narcissa.  
"Oh dear, you've no idea," the older woman said fondly. "The presence of a young lady only makes it worse, I believe."  
"You mean two young ladies, I'm sure, Narcissa," Blaise gallantly said, and Lady Malfoy smiled coyly.  
"Why I never knew you considered yourself a lady, Blaise. I'll be sure to remember that," Malfoy said. "Well, the good news is, you won't even have to change your name."  
At that, Hermione couldn't help herself and burst out laughing, quickly joined by Narcissa, while Blaise just looked affronted.  
The rest of the meal passed in similar fashion. Hermione found that she quite liked Blaise Zabini, who was rather interesting despite his inability to be serious for more than three sentences in a row.  
She had to admit that she was intrigued by this side of Draco. She had never seen him interact with friends, and she had to admit he was funny, in a very sarcastic way. Almost likeable. She shook her head. Bad thoughts, bad thoughts. It's not like he would ever take the pain of acting like that with an unworthy Mudblood like her.  
After dinner, the gentlemen retreated to Draco's study while she kept Narcissa company.  
"Does Blaise come here often?" she asked Narcissa.  
"Every now and then, yes. He's a very kind young man, you know, always making sure to come a little early to talk to me. I'm sure Draco put him up to it, but I appreciate it none the less."  
Hermione smiled. "He is very considerate when it comes to you, isn't he?"  
"Yes, you didn't expect that, did you? There's much more to my son than the little bully you've seen, I assure you. Especially now that he has broken free of Lucius' beliefs. Don't get me wrong, I loved my husband, but his ideas about raising a son were a bit unorthodox." She grimaced. "Sometimes I blame myself for not stopping him, you know. For letting him bring so much hate and pain in this family. I mean, when I look at Draco now and see what a good man he has become and yet how lonely he is, I cannot help but think how much better his life would be if he had grown up in a different, warmer family." She sighed deeply.  
Hermione didn't know what to say to that. She wholeheartedly agreed, and four years ago she would undoubtedly have blamed the woman too. However, suffering and war had brought her wisdom beyond her years and she realized now that not everything was divided in good and bad, right and wrong. So she took a deep breath and reached into her compassionate heart, and took Narcissa's hand.  
"It wouldn't do to dwell on the past, Narcissa. Everyone makes mistakes, and at least you're trying to make up for it now."  
Lady Malfoy smiled. "You must be the kindest person I know. I cannot even imagine how difficult this is for you, after all my family put you through, and yet you still manage to feel for me. And you're probably right, but I fear Draco will never get the chance to be who he ought to be. People hold grudges, dear, especially after a war. He may be a brilliant Auror, but most of his colleagues still look at him with distrust, and that's not likely to change. I'm so very glad he has Blaise, at least. Merlin knows he needs all the people he can get."  
Now Hermione Granger was not stupid. Most people would actually say that she was quite brilliant. She knew Narcissa Malfoy well enough not to underestimate her, or her Slytherin abilities. So she was quite aware of the fact that the lady of the Manor was trying to make her feel sorry for Draco, which would result in her befriending him, which would mean not only that he had another friend, but that that friend conveniently was a war heroine who knew half of the Auror corps well enough to convince them to give Draco a chance.  
She was aware off all the cunning and manipulation Narcissa was using, and yet _it was working anyway._  
Ugh, sometimes she just hated her almost inhuman ability to empathize.  
She smiled at Narcissa, but was freed from the burden of answering by Blaise, who came in to say goodbye.  
"Narcissa, it was a delight seeing you again, as always. Thank you for being such a delightful hostess." He kissed her on the cheek and turned to Hermione.  
"As for you, Granger, guess I'll be seeing you again soon. It doesn't look like you'll be allowed to leave yet, so good luck with that. But not to worry, you have my delightful company to look forward to." He took her hand, and to her great surprise, kissed it.  
When he was gone, Malfoy took a look at her shocked expression. "Don't feel flattered, Granger, he acts like that towards everything with breasts."  
"Draco! No need to be crass!" Narcissa scolded him.  
"What? You know it's true." 

true."


	3. Chapter 3

**Here's chapter 3, I hope you like it! Let me know what you think about it!**

She retreated to her room to give mother and son some alone time, and yet the prospect of another evening with nothing else to do but read annoyed her. She was bored, she missed her friends, she wanted to have some fun... If she was at her apartment, she could have Flooed Ginny and Luna, have a girls night out. Or go grab a drink with Harry and Ron, or her new colleagues. Everything sounded better than just sitting in her room at Malfoy Manor.

That's when an idea hit her. You see, Malfoys house-elves had fetched every single item she owned, shrunk it and put it in the enormous built-in closet in her room. She had, until now, only used what she really needed; some clothes, books, her paperwork. She hadn't wanted to make herself too comfortable because she was hoping to go home really soon. However, desperate times required desperate measures.

She started digging through her stuff, removing box after box until she found what she was looking for: her CD-player.

It was an old thing, but she had managed to make it sound rather well with the help of some intricate spells. The hardest one was the one that mimicked the electricity, as most wizarding households did not have plug-contacts. It was a spell of her own invention (she was quite proud of it) and needed to be recast every time she used the stupid thing.

It took her a few tries, but it worked. She looked at her small but much appreciated CD-collection, trying to decide which one to play. She didn't know much modern music, so most of her albums once belonged to her father. The golden oldies, he used to call them.

It always made her a bit melancholic, listening to the music she once sang along with her parents, which is why she didn't listen to it all that often. How she missed her parents!

But it wouldn't do to dwell on that now, so she shook her head as if that was the way to get rid of her somber thoughts, and picked one of her all-time favorites.

A few seconds later, Bohemian Rhapsody was blaring through her speakers. She put it on really loud, and soon the song worked it's magic: all depressive thoughts were put aside in favor of singing the familiar words.

She was standing in the middle of her room, her eyes closed, her hairbrush serving as micro, while she tried to sing all the voices at the same time and of course the guitar-solo at the end.

When the song ended, she turned around to accept her much deserved imaginary applause, when she saw none but Draco Malfoy standing in her doorway, looking very much amused and a little bit shocked.

His surprise at seeing her like that was nothing compared to hers on beholding him there. She stepped backwards... And fell over one of the boxes she had previously unearthed from her closet.

"Aw! Oh shit, shit, what the.."

Her humiliation was complete.

Malfoy laughed then, and once again she was mesmerized by how it changed his face and made him look much younger and kinder. To her surprise, he entered her room, carefully avoiding all the mess she had thrown on the floor, and extended his hand to help her up.

She had not expected his act of kindness so she took his hand, without having the time to second-guess him or act indignant.

"That was quite a performance you gave, Granger," he said, his voice low, obviously trying not to burst out laughing again. "You might want to work on the ending, though."

He dragged her up, and she released his hand as if it burned her, ignoring the tingles she could feel where her skin touched his (That was just the electricity spell still working, happened all the time).

"Oh shut up! What were you even doing here, spying on me?"

"I heard a loud noise and figured I'd come investigate. The door was open."

She paled at that. How could she have been so careless? "I'll have you know that that noise is called music, and it's far better than all that magical nonsense you people listen to," she huffed, crossing her arms.

"If it's muggle, how does it work?" he asked, gazing around the room.

He looked genuinely curious, so she figured she might as well attempt to explain it.

"From this thing, it's called a CD-player." She opened it, showed him the CD. "That's what they call a CD, which stands for compact disc. You put it in there, push on play, and the music comes out."

He stared at it, impressed. "And muggles make this? Without magic? How does it work?"

She smiled indulgently at his questions. She heard the same thing from all her pure-blood friends.

"I don't exactly know how they do it, but yes, they do it without magic. Muggles are quite creative, you know. They don't need magic. They have even made smaller, portables things so you can listen to the music without disturbing others, even while walking or taking the bus or something. That way, you can enjoy music without anyone else hearing it."

"Like a muffliato?"

"Not really, no. The music goes through a cable that is connected to a headset, so you can put it directly on your ears and no one else hears it."

"Ingenious," he muttered, interested. This was the first time she saw Malfoy so unguarded. His eyes were alight with curiosity, his features open and relaxed. It seemed the excitement of his discovery had made him forget he had a reputation to uphold.

Damn, he looked even handsomer like this.

She barely had the time to process the thought before he seemed to remember himself, and he unceremoniously dropped the CD he had been holding.

"Hey! Careful with that, you dolt."

"Anyway, next time, you'd best remember to cast a silencing spell on your room so you don't bother the entire house with your useless noise."

Well, maybe I wouldn't need to make so much 'useless noise', as you call it, if there was something to do here. I'm bored out of my mind!" She actually stomped her foot at that.

Malfoy merely raised an eyebrow at her, amused by her antics. "If you're done acting like a five year old, I'm going to leave now. Just read a book, isn't that your greatest delight in life?"

She huffed. "At least tell me if there is some news? About the escaped Death-Eaters I mean?"

She saw something in his eyes, like he had been hoping she wouldn't ask that question.

"There is, isn't there? That's why you were so late today!"

"My, my, Granger, keeping track of my presence already? I knew you missed me!" He drawled.

"Don't change the subject, Malfoy. Tell me!"

"What makes you think I would tell you? That information is classified and as far as I know, you're not an Auror nor the Minister of Magic."

"Oh please," she said. "Ron and Harry are going to tell me anyway, they always tell me everything."

"Ah yes, the Boy-Wonder and his useless sidekick. Figures they can break the rules and get away with it."

"Jealous?"

He narrowed his eyes at her. "You want me to tell you or not?"

She immediately rearranged her features in an innocent smile. "Yes please," she said, looking up at him. He seemed taken aback by her sudden change in attitude, for he merely stared at her for a while. She started to feel uncomfortable, just standing there, staring in his eyes (that had a mesmerizing gray color), but she was too proud to look away. As for Malfoy, he seemed to have totally forgotten what he was going to say.

She cleared her throat. "Malfoy? What happened?"

"Right," he said, looking away. "Er... You might want to sit down, Granger, it's not exactly great news."

"Oh my god, what happened? Did someone get hurt? Is..."

"In Salazar's name, will you calm down? No, your precious little heroes are not hurt, everyone's just peachy. Now shut up and listen."

She bit her tongue to swallow the angry retort she was about to give him, because she really wanted to know what happened.

"It's a good thing my house-elves are so efficient and took all your stuff here, because they got into your apartment."

_Oh._ Well that was not exactly a surprise. That was actually the very reason she had to move in with the Malfoys. Still, knowing that her worst (living, that is) enemies had managed to break into her apartment, was a very disagreeable idea.

"How do you know they got in?"

"We had an alarm set up, took us only a few minutes to get there, but the damage had already been done."

"Damage? But everything I own is here, what could they possibly have done?"

"Well, it's nothing irreparable, I guess, more of a message. They painted stuff on the walls, you see."

Draco was mumbling, apparently not very eager to tell her the bad news. It was (dare she even think it?) cute.

"Painted? Stuff?"

"Yes, you know, the typical. 'Filthy mudblood, you will die,' etc etc. Not exactly creative, those people. Also, the paint was actually blood, so..."

"They put blood on my walls?" she shrieked. And promptly sat down on her bed.

"Yes. Apparently they weren't very happy with the lack of furniture to smash. You should've seen Weasley's place."

She didn't respond, still trying to wrap her head around the fact that some vengeful idiot destroyed her place, her home, her safe haven. She felt her heart tighten at the prospect of having to find a new house (because she could never feel comfortable in the old one again) and having to start all over, again. It had been hard enough to sell her parent's house, and now tragedy had struck once more.

At least she didn't have to see it. Didn't have to come home to discover what they'd done to it, all for the sake of a half-blood lunatic that had been dead for years.

"Never thought I'd say this," she said, hating the tremble in her voice. "But I'm really glad I'm here."

He smiled at that. A real, genuine smile. "You're safe here, even though it might be boring. I'm sure you'll find something to occupy your time with." He had a teasing glint in his eyes.

"You're never going to let me live this down, are you?" she asked.

"Not a chance. I mean, who would've thought that Hogwarts' biggest bookworm dreams of being a famous singer?"

"I do not!" she shouted, and threw a shoe at him for good measure. He was openly laughing now, and hurried to the door.

"Don't throw your hideous shoes at me, you crazy bint!" But there was no real fire behind his insults.

"Get out!"

He did, closing the door after him.

Only to come back in a few minutes later (without knocking, the prat).

"What do you think you're doing?"

"Granger, I have come to a decision."He sat down on the bed next to her. "This confinement is obviously not very healthy for your already strange mind. It seems to me you're getting crazier by the day, and I have no desire whatsoever to be stuck with an insane witch under my roof. Therefore, I shall talk to Kingsley and convince him that it is of the utmost importance that you meet up with some of your friends, for my sake, of course."

"What makes you think you can do it? I've already sent him a dozen letters asking that, and most of the time he doesn't even answer."

"Granger, please. My charisma and powers of conviction are irresistible. Comes with being a Malfoy."

"Just like being modest?"

"You know, Granger, you use a lot of sarcasm for being a Gryffindor-princess."

"I'm not a Gryffindor-princess."

"Of course you are."

"Whatever. Get out of my room, Malfoy."

"Is that all the thanks I get for enabling you to see those morons you call friends?"

"I thought you did it for your own sake," she shot back. " And anyway, I'll believe that when I see it."

* * *

The next day found a fuming Hermione stamping through the Manor. It was 5 o'clock, and she had just received a note from Kingsley telling her they would arrange a meet up between the Golden Trio this weekend.

She burst in his study and threw the letter on his desk.

"How the hell did you do it?" she asked, crossing her arms on her chest.

"I don't know what you're talking about, and might I just add it's usually considered rude to burst in someone's study like that? I could've been doing something important. Or private."

"I can't believe Kingsley would just ignore me, a war heroine, the one that helped to kill Voldemort himself, and yet you go ask him only once and he agrees immediately," she ranted, pacing in front of his desk. "So tell me, how did you convince him?"

He merely shrugged, which served to infuriate her further.

"You're such an unbearable, obnoxious, worthless piece of..."

"Miss Granger, what is the matter here?"

Hermione turned around, cheeks burning red. "Nothing, Narcissa, I was merely expressing my surprise at something Kingsley wrote me."

"Yes, well, do try to express it in a less... vulgar manner, next time. In my house at least." Narcissa looked very disapproving, and Hermione actually felt guilty.

"I'm sorry."

The blonde witch nodded and left the room, muttering something about 'barbaric muggle upbringing' on the way out.

Draco smirked.

"You knew she was there, didn't you?"

His smirk only grew more pronounced.

That was it. The little prat had been laughing at her way too often this past few days, it simply wouldn't do. It was time for vengeance, and she had an idea. A rather brilliant one, actually.

"We'll see who laughs last, Malfoy," she said, and turned on her heel, back to her library. She had a letter to write after all.

* * *

Two days later, the tables were turned, and it was Malfoy who stormed into the library, where she was trying to work.

"Do you think this is funny?" he asked her, venom in his voice.

"You barging in while I'm working? Not particularly," she answered, sounding far more composed than she felt.

"Kingsley just informed me where the little get together with your friends will be."

She looked up at that, interested. "Did he now?"

"Oh don't play innocent now, Granger. You think this is funny?" He leaned on her desk, looming over her. He was truly furious, and she was actually starting to feel a bit scared of him. The man she saw before her now was not the kind boy that took care of his mother, or the distinguished aristocrat that would do anything to keep his reputation intact.

What she now saw was a broken man, one that had survived a war, one that had grown up too soon.

And oh, how she knew that feeling.

She refused to show him her fear. She didn't budge and looked him straight in the eyes, trying and failing not to realize it was the first time they had been this close._ He really has striking eyes._

"Surely it isn't that bad," she said, and she was proud that her voice did not betray her and she sounded perfectly calm.

"Not that bad? No, I'm sure it's going to be such fun, having both Scarface and the Weasel in my home, gloating and probably laughing at me because hey, they're my superiors anyway, aren't they? It's not like I could refuse them entry in the place that is supposed to be mine, because I'm a good-for-nothing Death Eater and they're the heroes that always save the day."

He was breathing heavily, she could feel his every breath on her face.

"That's not at all how they think, Malfoy. They come here to see me, and I'm sure they're really grateful that you took me in. And..."

"Grateful?" he interrupted her. He stared at her, as if trying to read her mind. He shook his head and let out a breathy chuckle. "You really believe that, don't you?" He sat down in the chair in front of her, and just kept looking at her as if she was a strange new creature instead of a human being.

She rolled her eyes. "You've always had a talent for dramatics, Malfoy. What on earth are you on about?"

He sighed deeply. "Nothing at all. Invite your perfect little friends here, see if I care. But Granger, if they insult or offend my mother in any way, there'll be hell to pay."

"If you think I would let my friends insult a woman like Narcissa then you are very wrong. She has been nothing but kind to me since I arrived, and let's not forget she saved Harry's life. They'll behave."

"They'd better."

He was gone, and she ought to feel victorious, because her little revenge had gone even better than expected. This had not been what she wanted to happen, though. She thought he'd be a bit pissed of, ranting and complaining about having a majority of Gryffindors in his house. Not this... anger, this sadness.  
Could life really be that bad for him? Both Blaise and Narcissa told her he had no friends, but he always acted so arrogant, so proud, that she never thought he cared. And could her friends really be that mean?

_Yes, yes they could, _was the honest yet disappointing answer she came up with. Harry had always distrusted Malfoy, and Ron really hated him. After all the bullying he would be more than happy to see Malfoy struggle and make fun of him.

How very immature. Surely they were past school-grudges? But no, not Ron. Ron was a great many things, but forgiving was not one of them. And Harry probably went along with him.

Oh gods, now she felt guilty. Great.

Well, it was too late to change it now, so Malfoy would just have to suck up his pride and deal with it.

* * *

Saturday marked the thirteenth day of her stay at the Manor. It was also the day that Ginny, Harry and Ron were set to visit her.  
She was sitting in the sitting room, anxiously waiting for them to Floo through. (Malfoy had changed the wards, they had exactly one hour before they had to leave again).

And then she heard the familiar sound of the Floo being activated, and the next thing she knew she was enveloped in a group hug. It was only then that she realized how much she had missed the human contact, the totally safe feeling you get when someone else is holding you. Being in the arms of her three best friends felt like home.

By Merlin's beard, Malfoy was right. The loneliness had muddled up her brain so much her own thoughts started to sound like a very cliché romance novel. Not to mention she was agreeing with Malfoy on something.

When they sat down, Ginny started the conversation with what they all were obviously thinking.

"You poor thing, being stuck with Malfoy for Godric knows how long."

"Yeah, I can't believe Kingsley did that to you," Ron added, already helping himself to the cookies the house-elves had prepared for them.

"He hasn't hurt you, has he? Cause if he has I'll..."

"I'm perfectly able to take care of myself, Harry, but thank you for your concern. No, he hasn't hurt me. He has actually been quite decent, and Narcissa has been a most gracious hostess. Really, I can't complain."

They all stared at her in disbelief. "You don't have to protect us, Hermione,"

Ginny said gently, touching her hand. "No need to pretend things are better than they are."  
"Ginny, why would I ever do such a thing?"  
"To protect our feelings, make sure we're not worried about you, because you don't want us to feel bad for you?" Harry answered.

Well, when he put it like that, it did sound like something she would do. Damn them for knowing her so well.

"I assure you, I am not pretending. The first evening was rather terrible, Narcissa and I didn't really get a good start, but she apologized and she's genuinely trying to get to know me and put her prejudices aside. And Malfoy has changed, you know. We're both adults, and past those stupid school-rivalries. He has been perfectly civil to me."

"Malfoy? Changed? Right," Ron snorted.

"Guys, we only have an hour, let's not waste it talking about the ferret," Ginny said, and the others agreed.

The rest of the hour was spent pleasantly, chatting about mutual acquaintances and sharing memories of the last time they were in hiding.

"Well, at least now we have a decent shower," Hermione said. "Although I miss you guys terribly. It gets a bit boring here."

"I thought the Malfoys had a huge library?" Harry asked sceptically.

"Oh yes, they do, it's wonderful! They have books that are centuries old, you wouldn't..." She trailed of when she saw her three friends grinning at her, obviously not convinced of her boredom.

She blushed. "Well, I'm not saying it's all bad here. I mean, you should see my room, it's amazing! It's just that I would like to be able to do something, you know. Go to work, or just get out of this house every now and then! Not to mention I could do my job a lot better if I could actually talk to people, instead of sending letters all the time."

"I'm sure you're doing great anyway, 'Mione," Ron said reassuringly.

They were interrupted by Narcissa Malfoy entering the room. She nodded politely at her three unwanted guests and then smiled at Hermione.

"Hermione, dear, as much fun as you and your friends seem to be having, don't forget the hour is almost over and the security-wards will go back up soon!"

"Oh of course, Narcissa, you're absolutely right! Guys, I'm afraid our time is up."  
After a lot of hugging and promises to write soon, they left through the fire-place, Ginny disappearing only 30 seconds before the wards set back in.


	4. Chapter 4

Malfoy was ignoring her. He hadn't spoken a single word to her since his outburst in the library. And, to her own surprise, it bothered her. Probably because she felt guilty, and because talking to her friends had proven her that he was right, and she had been naive to believe Harry and Ron would treat him fairly after so many years of bullying.

By inviting them to his home without his permission, she had dented his pride. Therefore, the only way to get out of this impasse was to put aside her own.

"Malfoy!" she shouted as she saw him walking towards his study. He didn't stop.

"Malfoy, will you wait? We're living in the same house, it's not like you can avoid me forever!"

This time he stopped and turned around, glaring at her. "And what makes you think I'm avoiding you?"

"Look, I just wanted to say that..." she paused, breathed in deeply, and gathered all her Gryffindor-courage. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have gone behind your back and invite Harry and Ron here, in your house."

He stared at her, in silence, for the longest time. And then, just when she had given up all hope for an answer, he snorted.

"Merlin, that must have been really hard for you, wasn't it? The brightest witch of her age, apologizing to a Slytherin..."

She huffed. "Yes, well, does that mean you accept my apology?"

He didn't say anything, but before he turned away she could've sworn she saw a hint of a smile on his face. And as he turned around the corner, her answering smile lit up hers.

* * *

The following evening, Hermione entered the dining room only to discover that Malfoy wasn't there yet. She shot a questioning look at Narcissa.

"He sent me an owl telling me not to wait for him," the blonde said. "An emergency at work."

Narcissa looked as composed as ever, but Hermione could tell that she was beyond worried.

"Do you know if..."

"That's all I know," the Malfoy-matriarch interrupted her, knowing very well what she was going to ask.

The rest of the meal passed in uncomfortable silence. She tried to start a conversation a few times, but Narcissa's answers were, though polite, short and uninterested. After dinner, the older woman said she'd retire to her own quarters that night.

"Goodnight, then," said Hermione. "Don't worry too much, Narcissa. I'm sure he will be fine."

"I know you are right, dear, but as a mother I cannot help but be uneasy until he is back here, safe. I'm sure one day you'll understand. I hope you won't be too bored this evening on your own?"

"Oh not to worry, I still have a lot of work to do. The Swedish Ministry is causing me some trouble!"

That was an understatement. She had passed the better part of the last week trying to convince the Swedish Minister that his plans to destroy a big part of the magical side of the Tyveden Forest in order to build a new Quidditch stadium was a terrible idea, but she wasn't having much luck with that. The man was a notorious Quidditch fan and did obviously not give a damn about living creatures.

She sighed deeply, trying to decide what she would write him this time. This whole affair would be so much easier if she could speak with the man!

_Minister,_

_I understand that Quidditch is important and will strengthen international relationships, however I must remind you that building a stadium in the Tyveden Forest is not recommended.  
As I have mentioned in my previous letters, the magical fauna and flora you can find there is absolutely unique. By taking away their natural habitat, some species actually risk extinction! Allow me to remind you that the European Organization for Protection of All Things Magic has judged against the built of the stadium, and the country of Sweden risks heavy fines should you decide to ignore their decision. _

_Respectfully,_

_Hermione Granger,_

She sighed deeply, rereading the letter for the fifth time. She still wasn't happy with it. She had already asked her boss to send someone else to Sweden, but he had simply answered that he believed her to be the best for the job and perfectly capable of doing it, even from a distance.

That knowledge had made her feel very proud and terribly stressed out. She was determined not to disappoint him and yet utterly clueless as to how to fix it.

And she really had to fix this. The Tyveden Forest held some of the last Fossegrimmen in the entire world! It really would be a shame if another species got extinct, especially for something as stupid as Quidditch.

Ugh, those Quidditch-fanatics and their utter lack of common sense._  
_

She took a deep breath in an attempt to calm her mounting anger. She was pretty sure that if she was holding these talks with the infuriating Minister in person she would've hit him on the face already. Hard. Like she had hit Malfoy back in third year.

A grin spread across her face at the memory. She remembered how absolutely shocked he had looked, unable to believe she had actually slapped him. She remembered how Harry and Ron had stared at her, impressed beyond words. She remembered how ridiculously giddy she had felt afterwards, proud of her assertiveness.

When you think of the devil; she heard heavy footsteps walking up the stairs. A quick glance at the clock revealed that it was close to midnight already, and her curiosity guided her feet to the door before she even realized that she had moved.

Then, she paused, thinking she still had work to do and shouldn't bother him; it's not like they were friends after all. But when she looked back to the bloody letter her decision was easily made. Any excuse to get away from it was an excuse she gladly used.

And so it was she hurried towards Malfoy's study, pretty sure she had heard him walk in that direction.

The door was ajar.

"Malfoy?" She knocked loudly, not quite daring to enter.

"Granger? What the fuck do you want?"

With him, that was almost as good as a 'please, come in', so she did. He was sitting on the couch by the fire-place, looking rather disheveled, with a glass of Fire-Whiskey in his hands.

"What happened?"

"None of your fucking business, that's what."

"No need to be rude about it! Your mother was really worried, and..."

"I know," he interrupted her. "I already sent Lila to tell her I'm back. Now if you'll excuse me, I 'm not interested in having company at the moment, and especially not yours."

She bristled. "Fine, whatever. You do know that drinking on your own is a really bad sign, right?"

"I'd like to see you fall asleep sober after seeing two people brutally murdered," he muttered, but she had heard him well enough.

She sucked in a deep breath, braced herself against the door frame with fear in her heart. "Who?"

"No one you know," Malfoy answered tiredly. "I'm sure you can read all about it in the Prophet tomorrow, so just _leave me alone_."

"You should take some Dreamless Sleep Potion instead of drinking. No hangover tomorrow."

He didn't answer. She didn't expect him to.

* * *

The next morning he was already in the kitchen by the time she came down, looking very much hungover.

"You look terrible," she told him honestly.

"So do you," he answered.

She rolled her eyes. "Very mature."

He merely groaned in reply.

"Why don't you take some hangover potion?"

"That's none of your business."

Well, it appeared that Draco Malfoy had yet to learn that Hermione Granger would stop at nothing to find answers. Today was as good a day as any to teach him that.

She started taking out several cups, making sure to make as much noise as she could while doing that. The house-elves were trying to stop her, telling her that they would get her whatever she needed, but she waved them away.

"Don't worry, Lila darling, you know I prefer making my own coffee!" she said, loudly.

"For fuck's sake, Granger, you are such a bitch!"

She dropped a pan, which fell to the ground with a satisfying 'BANG'.

Malfoy cringed.

"Fine," he said, his voice hoarse. "I'll tell you why if you just stop making all that bloody noise!"

She stopped at once and went to sit down at the other side of the table.

"You know, Granger, you have a lot of Slytherin in you. I'm almost impressed."

"I do not!" she exclaimed, feeling very much insulted.

"No need to get your knickers in a twist. Not all Slytherins are inherently evil, you know."

"How about you stop trying to distract me and answer the question."

He sighed. "My mother is against it. If you're stupid enough to get drunk, you will have to endure the consequences, or so she says."

Hermione couldn't help herself from grinning. "Narcissa is a wise woman."

"And you sound like a sixty-year old. How very dull. Now please stop talking."

He put his head into his hands as if unable to support it on his own any longer, looking absolutely miserable. She couldn't help herself; she took pity on him.

"You cannot possibly go to work like that," she said. "Wait here!"

She hurried to her room and, after digging around a little bit, found exactly what she was looking for. She came back into the kitchen and triumphantly held up a little bottle.

"Here you go, self-brewed hangover potion! I kept it around for when Harry, Ron or Ginny crashed at my place after a particularly crazy night. Don't tell Narcissa, though."

He took the bottle and stared at it with distrust written all over his face.

"How do I know you're not just going to poison me?"

"Because I am a Gryffindor, and if I wanted you dead I'd have killed you by now. In an honest duel, of course. I don't poison people."

He ignored her but opened the flask. "Right now, I guess death actually seems more appealing than going to work like this." And he drank it.

For a few seconds, they both just waited expectantly. And then, his entire expression changed and his face lost some of it's pallor.

"Well, it looks as even in the brewing of a simple hangover potion you have an unbearable desire to overachieve, Granger. Once a swot, always a swot."

"You could just say thank you," she answered. "However, coming from you, I'll take it as a compliment."

"I guess you're not exactly used to those, so do whatever you need to make yourself feel better."

"Not used to those? Your insults are starting to be pitiful. Have you looked at the Prophet or Witch Weekly after the War? I can assure you, there was no lack of compliments about me. About you, however, was another story."

"I need to go to work; murders to solve and all that jazz. Have fun being stuck here all day, miss know-it-all!"

"Ugh!" she shouted, throwing the empty flask at him out of pure frustration. "That's the last time I'm helping you, you ungrateful ferret!"

"And you call my insults pitiful? Ferret is getting old, Granger. It seems to be one of the few words the Weasel manages to pronounce, so he says it repeatedly."

"Aren't you supposed to go to work?"

He merely smirked at her and left.

"He is so infuriating!"

Polly patted her hand soothingly and handed her a cup of coffee.

"That is exactly what Mister Malfoy says about Miss Hermione, Miss."

She rolled her eyes (again) and grabbed the paper, intent on distracting herself from the annoyance this little morning conversation had caused her.

Only to be reminded of what had caused all this.

**A muggleborn and her half-blood husband slaughtered, no traces of the murderer! **

The article didn't give her any useful information, but it was the picture next to it that made her want to cry. It was taken at their wedding, and the couple seemed so young and happy.

So unaware of the tragedy that was about to befall them.

She spent the whole day working on the Tyveden forest, collecting as much information as possible and getting in touch with others who might have more success in influencing the Minister. However, as often was the case when it was about the rights of others or creatures, most people didn't seem to care.

Around five, just when she had decided it was time for a break and she was going outside, Malfoy stormed into her library (yes, she had already started thinking of it as hers. She'd been here for quite a while already, after all) and put a few protective spells up.

"What's wrong? Did something happen?" She had been quite nervous all day after reading the paper.

"No, but you can't leave the room for a while."

"But why?"

"Because one of my mother's old friends is visiting, and she can't know you're here."

"So suddenly? How can she even get through the wards?"

"I let her through. Didn't have much choice; she accosted me at the Ministry and would not give up no matter how rude I was. To keep refusing would have looked suspicious, so I brought her here. If you stay put there won't be a problem, she's only here for an hour or so."

"And you're sure Narcissa is safe?"

He shot her a disdainful look. "What do you take me for, an imbecile? Of course she's safe. No need to worry yourself about that."

"Oh for Merlin's sake, Malfoy, I was only asking. You don't need to get angry at everything I say!"

"I'm not angry."

She sighed but gave up. He was hopeless.

"Why were you even awake yesterday?"

"What?"

"Yesterday, when you came bothering me in my office, it was past midnight. Why were you awake?"

"Why do you care?"

"I don't. However, considering we're both stuck in here for an hour, you might as well satisfy my curiosity."

"Why are you stuck?"

"Because that woman is one of the most annoying people I've ever met. She doesn't let a chance pass to try to convince me to marry her niece, but let me tell you, the girl is so dreadfully boring I'd rather marry a house-elf. So I'm going to stay here until she leaves."

Hermione couldn't help but chuckle at that. The idea of the all-powerful Malfoy hiding because he didn't want to talk to a friend of his mother was rather amusing.

"I was still working. The Minister of Sweden is being a close-minded prat and I just can't get him to see reason."

"What is he doing?"

"He wants to build a Quidditch-stadium in the Tyveden forest."

"Ok... And this is a problem because?"

"Because the Tyveden is one of the largest magical forests in Europe, with countless species and plants we can't find anywhere else! Putting a stadium there would be a total disaster for the ecosystem!"

He merely raised an eyebrow at her passionate retort. "And I'm guessing that's exactly what you said when you tried to change his mind?"

"I... Well, yes, of course. What else was I supposed to say?"

"He's a politician, Granger. Facts don't mean a thing to his kind of people. You need to butter him up, tell him that protecting the forest will be good for his reputation, convince famous people to write him a letter too,... Things like that. If you just sent him a 30 page-long essay about fauna and flora he probably won't even read it."

"But that's not right! He is the Minister, Malfoy! He ought to do his research, and..."

"No one said it was right, but that's the way it is. Look, do you want to save the what's-it's-name forest or do you want to be righteous? Because you can't do both."

"Is that how you convince Kingsley?"

"Kingsley is a different sort of man. Flattery doesn't work on him."

"But you act like that towards others?"

"When I deem it necessary, of course."

"What's wrong with honesty and fairness and facts?"

"There's nothing wrong with it per se," he said, shrugging. "But we Slytherins like to get what we want, and not get stuck in an unending circle of righteousness that doesn't really get you anywhere in the end."

"You sure think highly of Gryffindors."

"You can't deny I have a point."

"Actually I can, considering the fact that not so many years ago an army with a lot of Gryffindors led by a Gryffindor fought an army with a lot of Slytherins led by a Slytherin and _we won_." She grinned triumphantly when she saw his disgruntled expression.

"If you're just going to use the war to win every argument then we might as well not bother."

"Well, you see, the thing is: I really like to win. And I will do whatever I need to get what I want," she threw his words back at him.

He glared at her and stood, walking to the door. "I'm going to kick our visitor out. You stay here until someone comes to fetch you."

It took about 20 minutes for Polly to come up and fetch her. Narcissa's friend must have been one of the most persistent persons ever to be able to withstand Malfoy for so long.

* * *

That evening, she was once again working late. She had decided to adopt Malfoy's technique and see how that would work. After all, her ideas obviously didn't do much good, so she didn't have much to loose.

At half past twelve she was nodding of, so she decided it was time for a cup of tea. She never asked the elves for anything at night, even if she knew they wouldn't mind doing it. She had accepted that most of them enjoyed serving and had therefore adjusted her views on the keeping of house-elves, as long as they were treated right and happy. It was undeniable that both Malfoy and Narcissa treated the elves right, and Polly and Lila were obviously very fond of their masters.

But if she could get something herself, she did. No need to get lazy, after all.

After making herself a cup of tea in the kitchen, she walked back to her room. Only to stop at Malfoy's study were the lights were still burning.

After a slight hesitation, she knocked.

"Come in."

He was sitting behind his desk, hunched over a file. His eyes did not leave the file when she entered, so she sat down and waited, silent. She took a moment to observe him.

He looked tired, exhausted even. There were bags under his eyes and his face was as pale as it had been that morning, before he drank her potion. Although his clothes were impeccable as usual and there was not one hair out of place, she got the very distinct feeling that there was something eating at him.

"You know, Granger, I always thought you'd be one to go to sleep early. Not to stay up until one o'clock for no other purpose than staring at me."

"I am not staring at you," she lied, feeling her cheeks heat up.

"Liar."

She figured changing the subject was the safest way to go right now.

"So why are you up so late? No offense, but you look like you could use a good night's sleep."

"You sound like my mother."

"No, that would imply I care about your health. I'm merely curious."

"You're too curious for your own good."

"I know, everyone keeps telling me that."

He sighed deeply and gave up. "I'm working on the murder case."

"The paper says there is no trace, is it true?"

"Not entirely," he grimaced. "The Dark Mark, or something that was supposed to represent it, was carved into their chests. If I wasn't so sure she was dead, I'd say this was Bellatrix' handiwork, but I think Rodolphus uses his late wife as inspiration. My family is so fucked up."

"Not all of you," she said, looking at him pointedly. He shifted uncomfortably under her gaze.

"So you're sure it's Rodolphus and the others," she continued, getting rid of the awkward silence.

"It's the only thing that makes sense. To be honest, I'm surprised they didn't strike sooner."

She nodded pensively. "I've been thinking the same thing. What do you think it means?"

"I think it means they're well organized and have a plan they're working on. Which is a lot more terrifying than a few Death Eaters running around without a leader."

"I agree. So why did they kill those two people? Were they simply at the wrong place at the wrong time, or was there a reason behind it?"

"If I knew that, I wouldn't be sitting here in the middle of the night now, would I?"

She ignored his snark. "Was there anything missing from the house? Or anything special about those people? Were they potion brewers, or do they work at the Ministry?"

"No, not that I know of. She wrote a book to help Muggleborns integrate in the magic community, so I think it's probably an act of spite."

"And there was a Dark Mark in the sky above the house. Maybe it was just a way to scare people and to signal to other sympathizers that they were back in the business."

He sat up straighter, obviously interested in her way of thinking. "But why wait for so long? They could've murdered someone as soon as they were out of Azkaban."

That gave her a moment's pause. "Probably because they wanted to make a statement. Maybe they tried to get either me, Ron or Harry, and when that proved to be too difficult they settled for someone else, hoping to draw us out."

"Which means that the next murder might be a trap. We need to pull Potter and Weasley out of the field."

She nodded. "They're not going to like it."

"No, they're not. I'll have to go straight to Kingsley with this."

"Sounds like a wise idea."

During their rather intense discussion, they had both started to lean forward unconsciously and it was only now that they realized how very close to one another they had ended up.

Malfoy hastily leaned back, and, fixing his gaze on her, said: "It's a shame you didn't become an Auror, Granger. You're much better at it than your sidekicks."

She scowled at him. "I'm good at the analytical stuff. Harry and Ron are better when it comes to fighting."

"Whatever you say, Granger. Anyway, I'm going to bed. I have an early start tomorrow."

"Of course!" she said, only know feeling how tired she was. "Goodnight!"

She hurried to her own room, convinced she would fall asleep instantly. However, thoughts of the murders and Malfoy kept her awake for a long while, before she finally succumbed to exhaustion.

**Let me know what you think!**


	5. Chapter 5

**So here's the new update! I try to update every 3 weeks, but now that Uni has started again I can't make any promises... So much to do, so little time!  
****Once again, thanks to all of you who followed, favourited and reviewed, it means so much to me! (I can't believe I have more than 100 follows already, yay!)  
****Enjoy!**

She woke up with a scream and covered in sweat, and it took her a few minutes to gather her bearings and push away the terror that had haunted her sleep. It had been a while since she had such an intense nightmare, but every time she had them they seemed to be more real, more terrifying.  
War left scars that went deeper than her skin, and although invisible, they were so much worse than mere flesh-wounds. The faint Mudblood on her arm hardly bothered her anymore, but these visions in the night, these painful recollections of moments long past, never failed to leave her unsettled.

Still shaking, she left her comfortable bed and headed outside, no longer able to bear the stifling atmosphere in her room. By the time she arrived in the kitchen, she regretted not having put on socks. The ground was chilling under her bare feet, and she didn't even know if the shivers travelling her spine were a residue of the nightmare or simply because of the cold. She quickly poured some milk in a cup, added some cacao powder and whispered a spell to heat it up (the Malfoys didn't have a microwave, or any other electric devices for that matter).  
She turned around, leaning against the counter, waiting for her hot chocolate to become... well, hot, and discovered that someone else was standing in the kitchen. She tried to scream, startled out of her wits, but a hand was pressed against her mouth, muffling all sounds.

"Granger, are you out of your mind? You're going to wake up the whole house. Shut up!"

When she recognized that the person in front of her was no danger, she stopped fighting him. It was only then that she realized that Draco Malfoy himself was standing really close to her, and had yet to drop his hand from her face.

"Are you going to be quiet?" he asked.

She nodded and he let go of her, hastily stepping away.

"So what has you awake at this hour?"

She shrugged. "I woke up and didn't want to go back to sleep. You?"

"I needed a drink."

Only now did she notice the glass filled with what appeared to be fire-whiskey on the table, and the fact that he was still wearing clothes while she was dressed in a shirt that had once belonged to her father and a little short that barely covered her ass.  
She could feel her cheeks becoming red, and was grateful that the kitchen was dark enough to hide her blush. It did nothing to hide her state of undress though, and she could feel Malfoy's stare traveling across her body.

"You're still awake? I thought you were going to bed..." She trailed of at his rather sceptic look. "Nevermind, er, well, I'm going back to my room then," she stuttered awkwardly, taking hold of her cup and starting to walk away.

"Do you have them often?" the blonde asked her.

She froze. "Do I have what often?"

"The nightmares."

"How do you..."

"Not that hard a guess, Granger. War-survivor awake at five in the morning looking as pale as a ghost and all that."

"The same could be said of you," she answered.

Their eyes met.

"So it could," he admitted. "But one could object that I always look as pale as a ghost, which is therefore no indication, and notice the fact that I am still dressed, which means I have not slept yet. So stop stalling and answer, or leave if that's what you prefer."

She didn't leave. Maybe she should have, but the idea of being alone right now was horrifying enough that she preferred an awkward talk with her former bully to a lonely, sleepless night in her room.  
She sat down, took a sip from her hot chocolate and sighed deeply.

"Not as often anymore," she said. "But when I have them, they're bad."

He nodded, but didn't say anything. Just kept looking at her expectantly.

"It's always the same," she continued, despite the little voice in her head that shouted at her to shut her stupid mouth, this is Malfoy, not Harry or Ron. "Memories, just that little bit altered to make it even worse, and it feels so real. I never used to remember my dreams, you know? I was always so disappointed when I was a kid," she let out a shaky laugh. "because other people had these amazing stories to tell, and I simply didn't remember anything. And now, I really wish I could forget them. Just get those images out of my head."

"Why don't you take your own advice and drink some Dreamless Sleep potion?"

"I did, in the beginning," she said honestly. "But I soon found out that I couldn't sleep without it anymore and that it merely postponed the nightmares, so I figured I'd have to learn how to deal with them. The first months were horrible, but eventually it got better."

"Well, I guess that makes you braver than most of us," he said wryly before downing his drink.

She looked at him, trying to figure out exactly what he meant. "I had a lot of help from my friends. I don't think I could have done it on my own. The problem is that the magical world is not very developed in mind-healing, and a muggle psychologist is not really an option considering it would be rather hard to explain in which war we fought."

"What's a spychologist?"

She chuckled.

"Psychologist. They're like doctors, but for the mind. Although it's not as scientific as medicine, usually. They talk to you, try to find out what exactly is wrong and find a way to cope with it, I guess."

"Talk to you? Sounds like bullshit."

"It isn't. A lot of muggles think that too, and I guess for some people it wouldn't help. But in a lot of cases they really make a difference."

He didn't say anything, but his expression did not need further explanation.

"Anyway, I'm going back to bed," she said, making her way to the door. "And Malfoy?"

"Yeah?"

"Make sure you find the bastards that did this. Too many people have died already."

"I do my best."

* * *

The next morning found Hermione Granger and Draco Malfoy once again in the kitchen, later than usual. Malfoy was swallowing his breakfast at a speed that reminded her more of Ron than of the sophisticated Malfoy heir, but he was quite in a hurry after all.  
He looked as tired as she felt.

"Are you going to speak to Kingsley?"

He nodded. "If Potty and the Weasel find out I told Shacklebolt to take them out, you better keep them on a leash and tell them it was your idea, they're causing me enough trouble as it is."

She rolled her eyes. "You know, it isn't that hard to say their names, and I do not keep anyone on a leash. I will try to make them understand it's for the best, though."

"Well, I guess I'll be off then," he said, standing up.

It was all rather awkward. Usually they kind of ignored each other, but for some reason that felt weird now, so she said:"Okay, good luck!"

When he was gone, she contemplated how their interactions had changed since she first came here. So had the way she thought of him, she had to admit.  
She had never considered Malfoy as really evil, despite everything he had done. He used to be a bully, yes, and a very disagreeable git, but not evil. Harry had told her exactly what happened on the tower in sixth year, and she remembered the look on his face when Bellatrix had tortured her in this very house.  
While his hatred for Muggle-borns might have been genuine, it seemed obvious to her that he did not want to be a Death Eater, and he had not been able to kill Dumbledore. All the things he had done or failed to do in those years, he had done to protect his family.  
And how could she possibly blame him for that?

So before coming to live with him (well that sounded weird), she still saw him as that obnoxious, cowardly Slytherin that had bullied her for years on end. But now she was getting to know him a little bit, and she was starting to realize that she might have underestimated him.

He was so much more than just that.

She wasn't sure how she liked discovering these others side to Draco Malfoy. Life was much easier when things were black and white. He had surprised her, yesterday, first with how easily they worked together, and afterwards by having a civil conversation with her out of his own free will.

She had never expected Malfoy to be easy to talk to, but apparently he was. _Or maybe your standards just have dropped ridiculously low because of the lack of company around here, _she couldn't help but think.

But that was a supposition she quickly rejected. If she could trust anything, it was her own intellect. She believed in herself enough to know that she would not let her judgement be affected in such a way, despite the circumstances.

There were only two things she was sure of at this point in time.

One: Malfoy had changed, and for the better at that.

Two: Harry and Ron were wrong for treating him like they did.

She was determined not to make the same mistake. If Malfoy genuinely wanted to change, he deserved a chance to prove himself. And if she could help him with that, she would.

* * *

That evening, Malfoy was once again missing at dinner, and Hermione was so exhausted that she went to sleep right after it, finally managing to get a good night's sleep.

The next morning was a Saturday, which meant that Malfoy finally had a day off. He was nowhere in sight in the kitchen, and Hermione hoped he would finally be able to catch up on some sleep because he wouldn't catch much Death Eaters if he dropped dead from exhaustion and alcohol-poisoning.

Her morning was a busy one; she had several letters to write. One of them was to Viktor Krum, in the hopes that, for the sake of their friendship, he'd be willing to write a letter to Sweden, expressing his displeasure at the prospect of destroying such a beautiful place as the Tyveden forest.  
The second was to Ginny, demanding the exact same thing, and that she tried to convince some of her colleagues at the Harpies to do it too.  
And a few other letters to important members of the Swedish Ministry, urging them to put pressure on their boss. (She was fully aware that this time she was using her celebrity-status to get it done, but Malfoy was right. If it worked, it was worth it.)

Her day passed rather quickly after that. She knew she'd have to wait a while before getting answers from Sweden, so she kept herself busy by a long walk in the garden. The days were getting shorter and colder, though, so at five she abandoned the gardens and headed back to the library to warm up next to the fire.

Only to find Draco Malfoy there already.

"Oh there you are," he said, sounding very much annoyed. "What in Salazar's name have you done to my library? I can't find anything!"

"What? I just emptied one shelf for my own books!"

"Yes, well the book I need happened to be on that particular shelf!"

"Okay, so just tell me which one you need and I'll give it to you!"

"That is not the point, Granger!" he shouted (the volume of their conversation had been increasing with every sentence). "The point is this is my library, and those are my books, and you had no right to.." He trailed off, reading a few titles.

"Granger?" he said, his voice deceptively calm.

Hermione swallowed and put a step backwards, closer to the door.

"Tell me that you have not stored your muggle books in the Malfoy library?"

"Well, in my defence, they're really good books?" she said, somewhat hesitantly.

And then, to her rather enormous surprise, he started laughing.

"Have you gone mad?" she couldn't help but ask. She had, after all, expected to be insulted and chewed out and thrown out of the library.

"My father would certainly think so, yes," he answered. "If he was still alive, I'm pretty sure he would escape Azkaban just so he could put the entire library on fire."

She gasped in shock. "The entire library? That's horrible!"

He snorted. "Your worst nightmare, I presume?"

"You can't just put books on fire, that's... monstrous!"

"I'm pretty sure that's not the most monstrous thing my father has ever done,' he said, and all the traces of mirth left his face.

A rather painful silence befell them.

"Well, at least you don't share his pyromaniac tendencies," Hermione said, in an attempt to lighten up the mood.

"No, I don't. You don't need to be afraid, I won't put your precious books on fire."

Relieved that the crisis seemed to be averted, she asked him which book he was looking for.

"The boring one about what is and what isn't legal in procedures run by Aurors."

"Oh, yes! I put it with the history books about law, it seemed to make more sense and there actually was some space left, so..."

"Granger, you're rambling," he interrupted her, taking the book from her hands. "Do what you need to do as long as you stay here. I'll expect it to be back in the exact state as before when you leave, though."

"Maybe if you just gave my idea a chance you'd realize that..."

"I want every single book back where it stood, and I really couldn't care less about your idea."

She sighed deeply. "Fine, your loss. Anything new on the case?"

"Expect for Potter and Weasley throwing a tantrum when they were told they're no longer authorized to be anywhere but in the Ministry or in their safehouse, no, nothing new whatsoever."

"I still don't understand why they can still go to work and I can't. If the Ministry is safe for them, surely it's safe enough for me?"

"If you were an Auror, yes. However, if you went to work, we'd have to assign Aurors to accompany you everywhere and we simply don't have the manpower for that. It's easy to make sure that both Potter and Weasley are never alone, but for someone working in your department it would be a lot more complicated not to mention less safe."

"I know, I know! I just wish I could help! I mean, those poor people died, and I'm sitting here rearranging the Malfoy-library!"

"Look at it from a different perspective: The Malfoy-library containing muggle literature is a step forward in the battle against bigotry and muggle-hating."

"No it isn't, it's only for my benefit and I could hardly be accused of muggle-hating... Unless," she said, a glint in her eyes.

Malfoy backed away, not liking where this was going.

"Unless you read them!" she exclaimed enthusiastically.

"No, out of the question! I've already took in and sworn to protect a muggleborn, I'd say that's enough for now." He looked so terrified it almost made her giggle.

"Oh, don't be ridiculous. You like reading, don't you?"

"Well... Yes, I guess so."

"So why wouldn't you read muggle books?"

"Because they're obviously not gonna be as good as wizarding ones, so why would I waste my time with it?"

"How do you know?"

"How do I know what?"

"If the wizarding books are better. Have you ever tried a muggle book?"

"Granger, everyone knows that muggles are not as advanced as wizards."

Once again, the mood in the room changed ridiculously fast. Hermione became angry.

"And by everyone I assume that you mean those old friends of your dad's? Because I know no such thing, and my friends know no such thing. You have no right whatsoever to make judgments like that without at least giving the muggle thing a chance, because that is exactly how prejudice starts, and it's just plain stupid. You parroting your father can be excused when you're a twelve-year-old, but not anymore, so educate yourself," she ranted, so angry she started tearing up (what a truly annoying thing for her body to do at that moment).

"Don't you dare talk to me about my father!" he shouted, stepping forward and towering over her, looking as scary as she had ever seen him. "You don't know anything, so just shut up!"

But she had never been one to be intimidated.

"I most certainly will not! And I do know some things, you prat! I know that you have spent your entire childhood trying to ruin mine, I know that I have been tortured on your floor while you were watching, I know that people I loved got killed because of blood-prejudice! I have every right to call you out on it, and if you can't handle the truth then that is your problem, not mine!"

He was fuming, still standing very close to her. They were both breathing uncommonly hard, trying to control their mounting fury, in a silent stand-off.

Hermione was the first to turn away, and yet he got the distinct feeling she had won this discussion.

She pressed a book into his hands.

"Read it," she ordered, and walked out of the room.

* * *

For some inexplicable reason, he took the book with him when he left. It's not like he was going to read it, but maybe Granger would be less furious if he pretended he tried (and he had to admit she was rather impressive when she was angry). He dropped it on the desk in his room and managed not to think of it again the entire day, until he went to sleep that night.

It was the first day in the entire week that he could manage to get some decent sleep, and maybe read a little.

His gaze was inevitably drawn to the book on his desk, and he shook his head, annoyed with his own mind.  
How on earth did Granger manage to mess with his head like that?

He decided he really needed his sleep and shouldn't waste time reading, and extinguished the lights and lay down immediately. Surely, after the week he had, he would fall asleep at once.  
But sleep seldom works that way, and, as knackered as he was, he lay awake, tossing and turning. He persevered for a good ten minutes before he gave up and went to fetch the book.

He sat there, staring at it, for the longest time. His father would be terribly disappointed in him if he did this. His mother, horrified.  
Because yes, despite her liking of Hermione Granger, his mother was still very much prejudiced against muggles. Draco was aware that Granger probably didn't think so, but Narcissa had merely decided that Hermione was the exception to the rule. She really did like her, that was not an act, but she also pitied her for her terrible ancestry, her lack of money and status. She was someone to feel sympathy for and to treat accordingly, not entirely an equal (although she had the greatest respect for Hermione's intelligence and courage).

It was a strange way of thinking, but rather typical for Purebloods. Draco knew exactly how his mother's mind worked, but someone like Granger would never understand.

Draco prided himself on getting over that hypocrisy. He had come to accept that Muggle-borns were as worthy of their magic as Purebloods, even though their growing up with a lack of magical tradition had them at a disadvantage. But still, everything purely muggle inspired him with distrust.

The fact that muggles were inferior was so deeply ingrained in him that it seemed entirely impossible that they could create something worth his time, so why was he sitting here with that book in his hands?  
But then again, the music that came out of that little box of Granger's had been rather impressive. Not to mention she seemed to have a very good taste in books, judging by her collection of wizarding ones. So surely there must be something good about this?

He sighed deeply, and started reading. After all, what harm could it do?

* * *

The next afternoon Hermione was relaxing in the library, reading a novel. She had decided that, due to it being sunday, she wouldn't work at all. The whole discussion with Malfoy had annoyed her to no end, and even the long walk in the garden with Narcissa hadn't helped to calm her down. Several times during their conversation, she was about to ask the older witch what exactly _she_ thought of muggles, now that she knew Hermione better.

But she hadn't, because she did not want to cause trouble with the only dependable source of social contact she had (Malfoy did _not_ count). And maybe, just a little bit, because she was afraid of the answer.

She was so concentrated on her book that she didn't notice Malfoy coming in until he sat down in the comfortable chair across from hers.  
He threw down something down on the table standing between them.  
It was her book, the book she had practically thrown in his arms last night. _Animal farm_ by George Orwell.

"You could have just put it back yesterday, you know. No need to do it so dramatically," she said, focussing on her novel.

"Well it would have been rather hard to read it then, wouldn't it?"

She looked up at him so quickly she actually hurt her neck. "You read it? All of it?"

"It's not very big, it's not like I'm gonna take a whole week before finishing it," he answered, evading her gaze.

She was perplexed, trying to figure out what exactly was happening. Not only had he read it, he had read it entirely?

"You liked it!" she exclaimed triumphantly.

"I never said that!"

"No need, it's obvious!" she clapped. "I told..."

"If you say 'I told you so', I will hurt you."

She clasped her lips together, not saying anything.

"I have to admit I was rather impressed by your quick thinking in giving me this book. It was very... enlightening."

"Oh yes, it is a perfect example of many wars."

"Is that how you think the prejudice against muggles began?" he asked, genuinely curious. Before, he had always thought that, if so many people believed that muggles were inferior, there had to be some truth in it. In this book however, the author very aptly described how the pigs (yes, the book actually was about a farm, to his surprise. Those strange muggles.) took control of the farm and started to believe, and make everyone believe, that they were superior to them. For no good reason whatsoever.

"Partly, yes. I mean, obviously there was more to it. I don't think it's a coincidence that the international Statute of Secrecy was signed during the period that the witchcraft trials were at their worst. I think it was just a combination of fear and distrust from both sides, which resulted in some of the witches and wizards starting to hate the muggles and everything they stood for."

"Still, it's rather odd that so many people believe it all at once, if there's no reason for it."

"Well, you believed that muggle literature was inferior to that of wizards until yesterday, is that still the case?"

"I couldn't possible make a decision about that with only one book to compare, now could I?"

She almost got angry again, at his refusal of admitting that it was good, but then she understood what he was trying to say without actually having to say it.

"You'll just have to read a few more then!" she said and hurried to her books. He followed, and she started picking out one book after the other and giving it to him.

"You absolutely have to check out this one, it's brilliant. And this one is rather good. Some history wouldn't hurt, I guess, oh and..."

"Granger, I do have a job, you know. I doubt I'll be able to read all this."

She turned around and saw that he already had an armful. "Oh, of course! Sorry!" She grinned sheepishly.

"I'll just bring these to my study, then," he said, and carefully manoeuvred himself out of the room.

"Let me know what you think of them!" she shouted after him.

He didn't answer, but there was no need. She stayed in the library for a while longer, with a bright smile on her face. Maybe he wasn't that terrible after all.


	6. Chapter 6

**My apologies for the delay. I had a hard time writing this chapter, and I'm still not entirely happy with it.**

* * *

"Malfoy?"

It was another late night were Malfoy hadn't shown up for dinner, and she could just feel something was wrong. He didn't come home until almost two in the morning, and she had waited for him, too anxious to sleep.

"Of course you're still awake," he said, sighing deeply. "I should have known."

"What happened?"

"Another death."

She sat down in front of him, desperately tried to control her breathing. "Who?"

"She was at Hogwarts, a few years older than us. Lisa Nott."

"Nott? As in..."

"Theodore Nott from our year, yes. She was his cousin."

"So she was a pure-blood?"

He nodded. "Yes, but she married a Muggle-born. I'm guessing that's why she was killed."

"What about her husband? Is he dead too?"

Malfoy swallowed, refused to meet her eyes. "No, worse. They tortured him out of his mind."

After a few seconds of heavy silence Hermione noticed that the world around her seemed to be going in circles, and that the loud gasps in the room were coming from her mouth.

She recognized the symptoms, it was hardly the first time. She was having a panic attack.  
She tried to relax her muscles, to breathe in and count to five, like she had been taught, but nothing helped.

"Granger? Granger, snap out of it!" She tried to concentrate on the voice, but her heartbeat was so overwhelmingly loud she could barely make out what it was saying.

She lost all control over her muscles and started to slide out of her chair. She closed her eyes, preparing for the collision, when she felt her body being lifted and held tightly.

"Listen to me, Granger. Don't let it control you, it's ok, you're safe. Damn it, Granger, focus!"

Finally, she managed to gain control over her own hands, and grabbed the fabric of Malfoy's shirt.

She managed to take a shaky breath.

"That's it, just focus on my voice. You're doing fine, Granger."

She was pressed against him, and used the steady rise and fall of his chest to calm her own breathing. It took her a few minutes, but she managed to calm down, to regain control over herself.

That's when she noticed that she was sitting on the ground, practically in Malfoy's lap, with his arms around her. She wanted to get up, but the movement sent a wave of dizziness to her head and she leaned back against him, reluctant to move.

"Give me a minute," she said, hiding her face in his chest even though she knew she would regret it later. Encircled by his arms she felt warm and safe. She took another deep breath. She noticed his smell and almost groaned in frustration. Someone looking this good should not be allowed to smell so wonderful, it just wasn't fair.

He didn't say anything, merely kept holding her, and after a time that could have been ten seconds or ten minutes, she managed to sit on her own. He stood and offered her his hand to help her up.

"Are you okay?"

"I'm fine, thank you," she said, not daring to look him in the eyes. "I'm really sorry about... that."

"Don't worry about it," he answered, shrugging.

They both sat down again.

"You seem to know exactly what to do," she said, the unspoken question obvious.

"Pansy used to have panic attacks during our last year at Hogwarts. Someone needed to calm her down."

"Pansy? What happened to her after the War?"

"She moved to France, unwilling to face the adversity here. Met a rich wizard and married him. We still owl occasionally, and she visits me and my mother about once a year. She's happy, I think."

"I always thought you two would end up married," Hermione admitted.

A rather inelegant grimace distorted his face. "Our parents hoped for that outcome too, I'm sure. But I've known her since we were both in nappies, thinking of her like that is just... weird. She's more like a sister to me, I guess. We kissed once, but it was just too strange."

Hermione giggled. She was pleasantly surprised by his honesty, and wondered if he was doing it to distract her from her panic-attack. If that was indeed his intent, it was working.

"I know all about that," she said, figuring that if he was being open, she might as well return the favor.

"I'm guessing you're talking about the Weasel? Didn't you two date right after the War? It was all over the news."

"Yes, you would think they'd have more important things to talk about, but every little thing we did was documented and commented on. It was bloody annoying."

"Obnoxious is more like it. So you two broke up because you saw him like a brother?"

"Well... yes," she said, but she always was a terrible liar.

"Nonsense, Granger, there's something you're not telling me. And that after my heroic act of keeping you from dying just a few minutes ago. The least you could do is be honest."

"Heroic act? I'm pretty sure you'd have gotten in trouble if I happened to die in your house."

"The facts remain the same. Spill."

She shook her head, annoyed at his persistence and yet finding the idea of finally telling someone strangely appealing.

"I have never told anyone this, you know."

"That's because all of your friends are either friends with or family of Weasley. You know I won't judge you," he said, wiggling his eyebrows. "Quite the contrary, actually. I can only applaud your decision on that particular matter. So tell me, was he that terrible in bed?"

"Oh my god, Malfoy, no! I'll tell you, but if you ever let any of this slip I'll hex you to hell and back, understood?"

He nodded.

"I don't know if you ever heard what the three of us had been doing while you were in your seventh year?"

"You were looking for ways to destroy the Dark Lord, no?"

"Something like that," she said. "We were alone and in hiding, and for the longest time we hadn't the slightest clue as to what we were supposed to do. Things got pretty bad, pretty fast. We were all worried about our friends, our families, the outcome of the war.  
But Ron... He took it the worst. He became angry and resentful, and after a while, he left."

She sighed deeply and started pacing around the room. It was the first time she shared her frustrations with anyone, and it wasn't easy.

"You have to understand we moved all the time, and I put impenetrable protection-wards around us. Once he was gone, there was no way he could find us again. He knew that, and still, he just... abandoned us. Because things weren't going easily enough.  
And I was angry, so angry, for the longest time. Even when he came back, because yes, by some miracle he did find us, it took me a while to get over it. And the way he was acting to make me forgive him, gods, that was annoying. Constantly choosing my side and giving me meaningless compliments, like I'm that shallow, come on. I could see right through him.  
But then the actual War began, and I realized that this might very well be our last day alive, and that this stupid fight wasn't worth it, so I kissed him. I really thought everything was okay then, that if we both lived through this day it would all be fine.  
And then Voldemort died, and yet nothing was fine." She looked much older than her age when he met her gaze then.  
"None of us were okay. The things we had seen, the people we lost. The entire Weasley-family took Fred's death really hard, and Harry and I felt almost like intruders, sometimes. Ron started drinking, I was totally dependent on the dreamless sleep potion, Molly couldn't stop crying and George didn't speak for the longest time. It was so... sad.  
And Harry and Ginny, they helped each other through it. Their relationship only got stronger, while me and Ron,we seemed stuck. And I thought it was because we still needed to grieve, and I tried, I tried so hard to make it work. It took me a while to realize why I was so reluctant about it all.  
I resented him. Every time we fought I was afraid he would walk out on me, again. And on top of that I couldn't explain it to him. What was the point, anyway? The past is in the past."

She sighed deeply, and shrugged. "I think that if we really had, you know, a spark between us, we would have worked it out. But there was something missing, I guess. So I broke up with seemed the fairest thing to do, for the both of us. No one understood, least of all him.  
He forgave me, in the end, and we managed to rebuild or friendship, thank Merlin. It was Molly that gave me the most trouble! She only started to act normal towards me when he found himself another girlfriend, not that that lasted long.  
Anyway, everything's good between us now, though I have to admit it was quite a relief not to have to spend all my time in a safe house with him."

"Yes, I can see how that might have been awkward," Malfoy commented drily, his mind reeling with all the information. He had never expected such a long story when he had asked.

She reddened, only now realizing that she had been telling a rather long and probably very boring story to Draco Malfoy, git extraordinaire.

"Oh, I'm sorry! I don't now where all that came from."

"Don't be sorry. I asked, didn't I?"

She nodded and offered him a tentative smile. He had yet to make fun of her, after all, and she could appreciate that.

"You should get some sleep, Granger, before you have another breakdown."

"I can't sleep," she admitted. "I keep thinking. About the people that died, the people who might die, how to capture those killers... I want to help, Malfoy. I _need_ to help, to do something. All this waiting is driving me crazy!"

"And what exactly did you have in mind?" he asked, his eyes narrowing.

"Maybe I could become an Auror? I mean, I obviously have the skills, I'm sure Kingsley could arrange some kind of quick training and..."

"Don't be ridiculous. You would only complicate things, and Kingsley won't let you."

She sighed deeply. "But..."

"However," he continued, interrupting her. "You have proven several times already that you are quite adept at researching, so I suppose I could give you all the files."

She perked up at that. "Really? You can get them all here?"

"Yes, I think I'd manage. I could just come home in the afternoon and work from here."

"Thank you!" she shouted, and very impulsively threw her arms around his neck to hug him.

Malfoy stiffened, having no idea how to react.

She let him go and rolled her eyes. "It's just a hug, Malfoy, no need to freak out about it."

"I'm not freaking out," he answered a little bit too quickly. "Not everyone can be as touchy-feely as you Gryffindors." He pretended to shudder in disgust.

"You should try it sometimes," she said. "Humans are social creatures and need physical contact every now and then."

"I prefer a different kind of physical contact, actually," he drawled.

It took her a few seconds to get his meaning. "Oh my god, really? That's just..." she spluttered, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable. "You really need to hang out with Blaise again, I'm sure he will be able to appreciate this kind of humor far more than me. On that note, I'm off to bed. See you tomorrow!"

Malfoy grinned to himself. He quite enjoyed getting her all flustered like that.

* * *

The next day, Malfoy kept his promise and was in her library at five o'clock, with a whole pile of files floating behind him.

"Here you go," he said. "A copy of every single file about the cases. You'd better find something, because it cost me more trouble than I expected to get them here."

She didn't answer; she had already started to read the first one and didn't pay him any attention.

"No need to thank me," he grumbled, but took a seat across from her and started going over his notes from the past days.

They spent the next hour in concentrated silence, the only sounds the rustling of paper and their sighs and yawns.  
Draco leaned back in his chair and stretched his arms above his head, unable to read another sentence. He looked up, noticing Granger was still completely absorbed by the text, surrounded by an endless amount of files, books and... trinkets.

The messiness of her desk surprised him. He always took her for the kind of girl that kept everything neatly organized, but the sight in front of him obviously disproved that theory.

He spotted at least three pictures on the desk, two of them fallen and invisible (what was the point of having them there, anyway?). He picked them up.

The first one was, rather predictably, one of the Golden Trio. The second one was of her and Potter, holding a little kid with a mob of very flashy blue hair.

"Who's this?" he asked, wondering what parents could possibly allow their son to walk around with blue hair like that.

She looked up and immediately recognized the picture he was holding. She smiled tenderly, recalling the wonderful day she had spent with Harry and his godson.

"That's Teddy Lupin, Harry's godson."

"Why is his hair so..." He didn't even know how to describe it.

"Blue? Well, it depends on the day, really. He is a Metamorphmagus, like his mum, and he likes really bright colors." And then suddenly, she drew a very obvious conclusion. "Oh!" she gasped. "He's your cousin!"

He stared at her in shock.

"I can't believe I never thought of this before," she rambled. "It's just really hard to believe that Andromeda is your mum's sister, I mean, they couldn't be more different!"

He still didn't say anything.

"She does look a lot like Bellatrix, I suppose, but only when you don't really know her. She's..."

"Granger, shut up. I can't wrap my head around this. Are you really saying that this kid with blue hair is the grandson of my mother's estranged sister? I didn't even know she had kids!"

"Well... Yes, she did. One daughter, Nymphadora Tonks. Everyone just called her Tonks, though."

"Tonks is the Muggle-born Andromeda married, the reason she got cast out, right?"

"Ted Tonks, yes. He died during the Second War."

"What about the daughter?"

Hermione breathed in deeply, willed the tears away. "Tonks died. She was killed by Bellatrix." A hard tone came in her voice when she said the name of the one person she probably detested more than Voldemort himself.

"Does my mother know any of this?"

"I don't know. I'm sure she knew her sister had a daughter, the wizarding world is rather small. I've never spoken to her about it."

"Don't. Just don't."

"Why not?"

He sighed deeply. "Because I know she still misses her. Andromeda Tonks was a very taboo subject in our family, and her name was never once mentioned when father was around. However, when I was little, my mother sometimes would speak of her, tell me what they used to do when they were only children. Sometimes she would just laugh at the memories, but sometimes it made her cry. And my mother hardly ever cries, so that means a lot."

"Isn't that all the more reason to speak to her about it? Surely Narcissa can forgive her sister for marrying a Muggle-born after all this time?"

"Only to rub salt in her wounds? She's lonely enough as it is, no need to remind her that even her sister doesn't want anything to do with her."

"How could you possibly know that? Andromeda is one of the kindest, strongest people I know! She lost everything to Voldemort, her daughter got murdered by her own sister and now she has the responsibility of raising her grandson on her own. And she stays strong and positive, but I know she is lonely too!"

"How could she possibly forgive her?" Draco asked, his voice breaking. "My mother chose Bellatrix when Andromeda left, and Bellatrix killed Andromeda's daughter. How can anyone forgive such a thing?"

Instinctively, she knew that this was about more than Narcissa and Andromeda. This was about a boy wondering if he deserved a second chance.

"You'd be surprised," she said gently. "at how much people are willing to forgive. Not only for the sake of the one apologizing, but for their own sakes too. Resentment, anger, hate... It's poison. Andromeda is the one who told me that, actually."

He was silent for a very long time. He opened his mouth several times as if to say something, with a look so intense that she felt herself both dreading and anticipating his words. He never spoke them, though, and instead settled for an altogether different question.

"So you think that if my mother contacts her she will respond?"

She shrugged. "I think you'll never know until you try."

He nodded, absent-minded. "Maybe I should write to her first, see how she reacts."

She smiled brightly. "I think that's a wonderful idea! I would put in a good word for you, but she doesn't even know I'm in the country."

"Why?" he said it so silently she almost missed it. "Why would you do that for me?"

She hesitated, not really sure how to answer. The truth was that she didn't really know why she was so eager to help him, and yet she could feel it was the right thing to do.

"Because you haven't been that bad at all since I've been here, to my surprise," she finally settled on saying.

She could see him tense up, ready to bite her head of at the insult, when he noticed her grin and realized she meant it as a compliment.

He grinned back. "And I suppose you're not the worst house-guest either. Except for the messing with my books, and all the noise you make, and the fact that you're trying to convince my House-Elves they deserve more money and freedom, and..."

"All right, all right, I get it, now shut up!" She shouted, throwing her pen at him. He caught it before it managed to hit him (those stupid Seeker-reflexes) and looked at it in wonder.

"What in Salazar's name is that?"

"Are you serious? You don't even know what a pen is? I swear, you pure-bloods are stuck a few centuries behind."

He didn't even react, kept trying to figure out what the use for this... pen was.

She rolled her eyes. "We use it to write. It's a lot more practical than quills. Try it!"

"Where's the ink?"

"In the pen itself, you don't need an inkwell. Just write something down and you'll see!"

Tentatively, he did so, and the look of wonder on his face made her burst out laughing.

Immediately, his scowl returned and he threw the pen away.

"Oh come on, Malfoy," she said, managing to suppress her laughter. "I didn't mean to laugh at you. You can have the pen if you want to, I've got plenty of them!"

"I don't want your stupid muggle things," he snapped at her.

"Really? Because I'm sure that if you use a pen to write Andromeda she will be far more inclined to believe you've changed your beliefs about Blood-purity," she said, trying and failing to keep the smugness out of her tone.

He glared at her, knowing very well that she had won the argument. "Fine."

"Did you?" she asked hesitantly.

"Did I what?"

"Change your beliefs? About blood-purity, I mean," she rushed out, more concerned about his answer than she was willing to admit to herself.

He looked surprised at her directness. He smoothed his hand through his hair and shot her an uncomfortable look.

"I don't recall agreeing to awkward discussions while we worked, Granger."

"Allow me to remind you that _you_ started the conversation when I was trying to work. Also, I think it' s a perfectly fair question to ask, considering that we're now living and working together. And let's not forget the fact that you are supposed to protect me! I'd feel a lot safer if I knew your thoughts on the matter."

"I can assure you that even if my thoughts on Blood-purity had remained the same, I would still have protected you as best I could. It's called doing your job, Granger, and contrary to what you seem to think not only Gryffindors are capable of doing that."

"Even if," she repeated. "Which means you did change your mind."

He sighed deeply. "Yes, I did."

"Malfoy, you can't possibly say something like that and not explain."

He lifted one eyebrow. "Watch me."

"Oh come on," she whined. "Pleeeease?" She dragged out the word, batting her eyelashes at him jokingly.

He chuckled. "Don't play dumb, Granger, it doesn't suit you."

But she kept staring at him with those hopeful chocolate eyes and he could feel his resolve waver.

"I suppose there's no harm in telling you," he relented, and was rewarded with a ridiculously bright smile from Hermione.

"I started having doubts when I first met the Dark Lord," he continued. "Here was this man my father worshiped and I had longed to meet for years, and he was just hideous, and so damn terrifying. In the beginning I was still impressed with his power, and actually wanted to become a Death-eater, but then he ordered me to kill Dumbledore and everything started to change. All those things I always said suddenly became very real, and I didn't like it one bit.  
You know I couldn't kill Dumbledore. I was too weak, too scared. The old man offered me protection, did you know that? I was trying to kill him, I had helped a bunch of crazy Death Eaters in his beloved school and still he wanted to help me."

He looked her straight in the eyes with such anguish that she could no longer remain silent.

"Not killing Dumbledore doesn't make you weak, Malfoy. Not being able to kill someone despite fearing for your own life is probably the very opposite of it."

He sneered at her. "Don't think it was some kind of heroic act of defiance or anything, because it most certainly isn't. Anyway, would you like me to finish my story or not?"

She nodded eagerly.

"I guess the turning point was when I realized the Dark Lord himself was only a Half-blood. If one of the most brilliant albeit evil Wizards of all time had muggle blood, how in Salazar's name could they be inferior?  
I started looking at the facts instead of what my parents told me, and those were pretty obvious. There is no significant difference in magical ability between Muggle-borns, Half-bloods or pure-bloods. The only important difference is the way they grow up, and that seems hardly sufficient to call someone inferior, just disadvantaged."

She nodded thoughtfully. "But you still believe muggles are inferior, don't you?"

"Well, yes, of course. I mean, they don't have magic, which means they are less evolved. It doesn't make them bad or worthless, though," he added hastily at her furious look. "They just lack something we have."

"But they have a lot of things the magical world couldn't even dream of! Did you know that muggles found a way to go to the moon?"

He scoffed. "Don't be ridiculous, that's impossible."

"Are you calling me a liar?"

"Hardly," he said. "If you were lying, you wouldn't come up with such a ridiculous idea. The muggles probably faked it and managed to fool you."

Hermione wavered between being annoyed and amused. "Fool me? Me, of all people?"

"Yes. I know you are intelligent, but you have a tendency to see the best in everyone and everything, which makes you way too trusting."

"Really now?"

"Yes," he said, perfectly convinced by his own explanation. "Even when I tell you something about the past, when I was downright cruel to you, you immediately try to jump to my defense."

"Sweet Merlin, you really are an idiot," she said exasperatedly, and abruptly stood to leave. Before opening the door however, she hesitated.

"Do you remember how Marietta Edgecombe was jinxed when she betrayed the D.A.?"

Malfou looked surprised at the sudden change of subject, but nodded. Those boils were hard to forget.

"That was my doing. I made everyone who wanted to join us sign up and cursed the list, so that we would immediately know who betrayed us. I'm not too trusting, Malfoy. Just a good judge of character."

Her voice dropped at the last sentence, and he had to listen intently to hear it. When he realized what she actually meant by it, he was so shocked he didn't answer.

Hermione sighed deeply and left the room, unaware of the blonde staring at her back with a look of confusion and admiration.

He had to admit that Granger being all vengeful and cunning was ridiculously attractive.

He buried his face in his hands. How was he supposed to work with her everyday and not end up in the crazy ward at St. Mungo's?  
And yet, the idea of changing his mind and not spending time with her working on the case was, for some reason, repulsive. Draco Abraxas Malfoy, descendant of a long line of Slytherin pure-bloods, actually wanted to spend time with a Gryffindor Muggle-born, best friend of the Boy Who Lived himself.

_Fuck_.

**That's it! I hope it wasn't too terrible. **

**A few questions: Are there any characters you would like to see in the future? Do you think Andromeda would forgive Narcissa? And what muggle books would you like Draco to read?  
**

**Let me know! (and your thoughts about the chapter too, of course!)**


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